


my love, take your time

by writerforlife



Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Angst, Avengers: Endgame (Movie) Compliant, Canonical Character Death, F/M, Future Fic, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Post-Avengers: Endgame (Movie), Time Travel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-09
Updated: 2019-06-21
Packaged: 2020-04-23 18:32:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 55,799
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19156594
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/writerforlife/pseuds/writerforlife
Summary: It's been twelve years since Tony Stark died. In 2035, Morgan Stark is sixteen years old, and Peter Parker is twenty-eight. When Morgan becomes frustrated that she doesn’t know her dad, she and Peter set out on a journey through time to better learn who Tony Stark really was. But with a threat from the past looming on the home front, Morgan and Peter find themselves with an impossible question: what are their places in Tony Stark’s legacy—and outside of it?





	1. birthday

**Author's Note:**

> So this is my post-Endgame hurrah - I had so many thoughts about the movie and the people who Tony was forced to leave behind that it became this giant fic. It's entirely finished, and I plan on posting every other day. If you want content on Peter, Morgan, and Pepper healing AND important Iron Man/Tony Stark moments, this is the story for you!!

Morgan Stark turned sixteen today. 

Stark Tower glittered white and gold on the outside, and inside, polished chrome decorations adorned the open floor she and her mom used for parties. The interior lights shone gold—Uncle Happy’s doing after hours of fighting an aging FRIDAY. Now, as the lights washed over the hundreds of guests—each more affluent than the previous—Morgan stood out of the way, but her mom worked the room. She was radiant in the dim glow, her white dress and whitening hair shining whenever she turned.  An undercurrent of voices, laughter, and music grew stronger with each passing minute. 

Morgan frowned into her flute of sparkling cider. 

Hundreds of people, and she was alone, missing a man she could barely remember.

_ Don’t do this tonight,  _ she told herself. There was a lot to be happy about. This was probably the best-protected sweet sixteen in the universe’s history—and she, perhaps, the best-protected girl on Earth. Her mom left the senators’ company and stood with Uncle Rhodey and Uncle Happy, a slight space between them, as if they expected a fourth person to join. 

They always stood like that. Morgan never occupied the open space. 

Hope Van Dyne and Scott Lang chatted with the Bartons, Scott with a deck of cards in hand, while Cassie Lang laughed with Lila, Cooper, and Nat Barton. Clint wrapped his arm around Laura’s waist. He’d retired soon after Thanos’ defeat—for good this time. King T’Challa and Princess Shuri had made it from it Wakanda; they were deep in conversation with Bucky Barnes and Sam Wilson. Wanda Maximoff and Dr. Strange had orbs of glowing energy between them—probably new techniques for their powers—while Thor and Bruce Banner looked on. 

Morgan checked her phone. One hour into the party. Hopefully Peter would be there soon. The party would become more bearable once he came. Nebula and the other Guardians couldn’t make it, but they sent her a leather jacket and a bionic leg as present. Carol, also absent tonight, sent a lamp made with light from the star named after her dad. She’d already put it on her bedside table. Besides that, no presents. She hadn’t asked for anything but donations to charities. Mom had pestered her about gifts for  _ weeks _ , but she’d held steady. 

She could have had anything, almost. Five new cars, a building, a school, a city, a library, a workshop furnished with the best technology, a trip around the world, a planet named after her. Money, though, wouldn’t buy the one thing she truly wanted. 

“Miss Stark?” 

Morgan stopped herself before she rolled her eyes. A  _ reporter _ . He was young, with a sharp jaw, sparkly brown eyes, and blonde hair. Cute, at least. Could’ve been worse. 

“Miss Stark,” he repeated. 

“I heard you the first time,” she said. Sometimes, she wondered if reporters thought her first name was  _ Miss.  _ If they did call her Morgan, they rushed past it to emphasize her last name.  _ Stark.  _ “What do you want?” 

“My name is Jackson Everhart. I have a few questions?” 

“I have a feeling you’ll ask them whether I like it or not.”

“I can’t help but notice that you haven’t gotten involved in Stark Industries. No work with environmental issues, no work on the Iron Man programs or associated charities. Do you intend to dissociate yourself with the Stark name?”

“Dissociate?” 

“There has been talk that you resent your father and don’t want to be associated with his legacy. Can you confirm or deny these rumors.”

She opened her mouth. Nothing came out—she had a hard time speaking in the face of sheer stupidity. How could she resent her dad if she didn’t even know him? For dying to save the universe? This dumbass  _ truly  _ must have thought she was a terrible person. 

There was a nagging sensation in her stomach, though. 

Because she wasn’t involved with Stark Industries. She hadn’t found her place there yet. She’d dabbled in a few departments, but she’d always been most at home alone or with Peter in her workshop. She couldn’t tell what the world expected of her—Everhart, though, expected an answer. Before she could give it, though, a bulky blonde mass shot between them. 

“Morgan!” Thor cried. He slung an arm around her shoulder—she nearly buckled under his strength—and shoved a beer into her hand. Bruce approached them, mouth open. Probably to apologize. He apologized a lot for Thor on Earth. Everhart, though, faded into the background. She watched him go, the rotten feeling still in her stomach. 

“Morgan, Morgan, you’ve gotten so big,” Thor said. “You need a drink!”

Bruce frowned. “Thor, she’s a child.” 

“You’re right, she’s still growing. Two drinks!” He swaggered toward the bar, waving to everyone who called his name, Stormbreaker strapped across his back. 

“Don’t mind him,” Bruce said. “Are you having fun?”

Morgan smirked. “The time of my life.”

“Well, I hope that’s true. You’re handling everything well, I have to say, with your birthday, and those idiots trying to steal Tony’s technology—”

“Wait, what?” Morgan interrupted. “People are trying to get to Dad’s tech? Since when? Nobody mentioned anything to me.”

“Fuck.” Bruce blushed. “I wasn’t supposed to say anything. Your mom…”

“You guys have  _ known _ ? Nobody told me?”

“Look, I should check on Thor. I’ll, uh… I’ll leave you to your party. Happy birthday, Morgan. Let us know if you need to be rescued from any more reporters.” He staggered away, rubbing the back of his neck. Morgan narrowed her eyes. People, presumably  _ bad guys _ , wanted the technology her dad created before he died, and nobody had thought to tell her. And Bruce was anxious—the situation must have been worse than anyone let on. 

Across the room, Strange caught her gaze and raised an eyebrow, as if to ask if she was okay. Morgan nodded, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. Strange’s eyes narrowed. She shot him a glare that she hoped said  _ fuck off.  _ They were close, sure, but things were weird between him and Peter. She didn’t like when people didn’t like Peter, even if said  _ people  _ included Earth’s Sorcerer Supreme. 

“Are you glaring?” Cassie Lang appeared behind her, a grin splitting her round face. She followed Morgan’s gaze. “At least you’re glaring at Stephen. I thought you were flirting with that cute reporter. Jackson Everhart? He’s a cutie.”

Morgan scrunched her nose. “Shut up.”

Cassie Lang was everything Morgan wanted to be—intelligent, self-assured, funny. At twenty-seven, she’d already fought in Wasp suit and subbed in for Scott or Hope during a pinch. 

Cassie sighed. “Birthdays suck, huh?”

Morgan’s eyes snapped away from Strange. “What?”

“Yeah, when my dad was in jail, I hated my birthday. Then after the snap…” She sighed again. “I never felt much like celebrating those years.” 

_ But he came back,  _ Morgan thought. Cassie’s dad also survived Thanos. She tried not to resent her for that. Most days, she succeeded.

“I have every girl’s dream sweet sixteen,” Morgan said instead. “I’m in Stark Towers, I have the Avengers here, and I’m Morgan Stark.” 

Cassie smiled sadly. “I’m sorry he isn’t here. I know what it’s like to lose a father.” 

“You got him back,” Morgan blurted. 

“I know. I’m sorry. Time travel and the quantum realm can’t be the answer to everything, right?” She grinned reproachfully, but Morgan’s thoughts caught on two words.  _ Time travel.  _  “I wanted to make you feel better. I could do magic tricks. Dad taught me a few with cards.”

“I think I’ll head down to the workshop for a few minutes. Just to clear my head.” 

“Let me know if you need anything, Morgan. For real.” 

Morgan gave Cassie a mock-salute as she slipped from the room into the elevator. Nobody noticed. She was good at weaving herself into the background; in her deep burgundy dress and black flats, she was easy to miss. The noise faded as the elevator went lower into the building, toward the workshop. 

_ Coming soon?  _ she texted Peter. He often worked in the lab with her. Sometimes, he let her tinker with his suits. She’d come up with a crazy-efficient nanotech stealth armor for him, even got to watch as he tested it. He would agree that the party was stupid and work with her. His birthdays were rough, too, with the absence of his mother, father, uncle, and now her dad. He understood, even if he didn’t say so.

“Hey, Dum-E,” she called as she entered the workshop. “It’s my goddamn birthday.” The robot trilled happily. “Shit, dude, tone it down a little bit, I don’t think I’m feeling it.” 

Dum-E trilled again, sadder this time. It made her feel worse. 

She sat atop one of the counters, scanning the room. As she’d done a million times before, she tried to picture her dad at work down here. Which tools had he favored? How many times had he slept on the couch in the corner? What were the stories behind each coffee stain? While she’d made the space her own, she left certain corners untouched, left once-new tech and all the Iron Man suits untouched. She stood and approached one of the suits, her fists curled at her side. The gold-plated face stared her down, noble and bold. She was tall enough to meet the rectangular eyes. She clenched her jaw as she saw her own reflection. Like him, she was stocky, rather than tall and willowy like her mom. She had his eyes, too. Everyone always told her that. Apparently she liked the same music and had the same taste in food, too. She hated that. She hated that she had something that they could have shared, but they couldn’t because he was  _ dead.  _ Truly dead. Gone. 

“Want to know something shitty, FRIDAY?” she called. 

“I don’t think I have an option,” the AI replied.

“In thirty-eight years to the day, I’ll be older than Dad ever was.”

FRIDAY quieted. 

“You don’t have to say anything,” Morgan added. “But isn’t that weird?”

“Fifty-four won’t come for a long time.” 

“I want to see him again, FRIDAY.” Morgan drummed her fingers against a counter. “I have ideas.” She did. She had a  _ lot  _ of ideas—most too frightening to say aloud. She thought it again.  _ Time travel.  _ It had been on her mind for a long time, and Cassie mentioning the quantum realm only added fuel to the fire she should’ve extinguished ages ago. “Want to know what else I want? A fucking blowtorch. I want to weld something.”

“Sweetheart?” 

Shit. Her mom. Pepper entered the workshop, frowning slightly. 

“Hey, Mom,” Morgan called. “Seen a blowtorch anywhere?”

“Morgan.” Her mom crossed the workshop, heels clicking against the floor. “Your party’s upstairs.” 

“Well, I’m downstairs,” Morgan said. “How about that?”

“Tell me what’s wrong.” 

“Nothing’s wrong. It’s crowded up there, you know? Too many superheroes. I know they’re, like, family, and everything, but when you said a  _ small get together _ , I thought—”

“God, you’re more like him every day,” her mom interrupted. “You’re deflecting.”

Morgan met Pepper’s piercing eyes. “Bruce told me people are looking for Dad’s tech. Have there been robberies? Digital inquiries?” 

“I told him not to…” Her shoulders slumped for a moment, but she quickly corrected her posture—as she always did. Morgan didn’t think she’d ever seen her mom break composure. “We’re taking care of it.”

“I work down here!  _ With  _ all of Dad’s things. Robberies or digital inquiries?”

“Hacking attempts. Also, one attempt to get into the tower. But you’re safe.”

“I know I am. I have up to three Avengers breathing down my neck at any point.”

“Let’s not think about this right now. I found a present, no thanks to you. Well, Dad did. He made this for you when you were little. He was planning on giving it to you on your eighteenth, but I don’t want to wait two more years.” Pepper reached into her pocket, then handed Morgan a flat box. 

Morgan’s breath caught after she opened it. A beautiful glass orb connected to a delicate silver chain rested on a plush surface, a shard of metal in its center. Her fingers trembled as she brushed them against the orb. 

“I have my necklace with the shards that were in his heart,” her mom said. “Once you were born, he knew he wanted you to have something, too. He made this when you were… two months old, I believe.”

Morgan swallowed hard. “Mom…”

“I know it’s a lot. I’ll leave you for a minute.” Pepper moved toward the door, not meeting Morgan’s eye. “Be back upstairs before cake. You know Happy will have a cow if you aren’t.”

Morgan wanted to cry as she stared at the necklace, at the silver shard glinting within it. That was once embedded in her father’s chest. Once been a part of him. The necklace was cool in her hands—it felt familiar. A cold necklace, cold technology, a cold world. Nothing to match her father’s warmth, not even with the people surrounding her. 

_ Shit _ . She couldn’t breathe. She had to ditch her own party—couldn’t be there for another moment. She glanced at the Rescue suit and exhaled.

“Let’s go for a spin,” she muttered to herself. “Time to go.”

 

#

 

Pepper Potts-Stark needed a drink. She told Rhodey as much.

“Nope,” he said. “You aren’t getting drunk at a sweet sixteen.”

“Not getting drunk, just  _ a  _ drink.” She accepted a champagne flute from a passing waiter anyways and sipped. She couldn’t wait to dive into the good stuff later—Peter and May were coming later, so maybe May would join her. “Her birthday is difficult for both of us.” 

“Birthdays in general are difficult. Remember when I first put on the War Machine armor?” Rhodey asked. 

“God, do I,” Pepper said. “Of all the times Tony made an ass of himself, that has to be one of my favorites. In hindsight, of course. That was a PR nightmare.”

“Don’t forget Congress. That was quite the year.” 

“I’m scared that Morgan has a bit of that in her.”

“You didn’t know him at sixteen, Pep. I did. Trust me, you have reason to be scared, but not as scared as I was.” 

She chuckled, looking out at the guests she’d assembled for her daughter’s night. So many  _ Avengers _ —and she knew even more who were in outer space. In the years following Tony’s death, they’d all rallied around her and Morgan, providing everything from a meal when Pepper couldn’t bring herself to cook to protection from crazed followers. Thor, Bruce, and Clint—those who remained from the original six—helped her more than she could express. May Parker, too, had stayed with her in Stark Towers, watching Morgan during the day while she re-established herself as CEO of Stark Industries. Peter and Morgan had needed each other then, too. She didn’t know how she felt about them all being there, but at the end of the day, they were family. Tony was an Avenger until the end. 

“Pepper?” Rhodey touched her back. “Did you hear me?”

She blinked rapidly, trying to bring herself back to the party. “What was that?” 

“I asked if you were okay.”

“Oh, I’ll be fine.” She sipped her champagne. “I gave her the necklace.”

“Did she like it?”

“I don’t know.” 

There was a lot she didn’t know when it came to her daughter. They were close, sure—that came from only having each other as immediate family for twelve years. Tony, though, remained a touchy subject. After he first died, Morgan had questions. Where he was. If he was coming home. Why did he leave. She answered them the best she could and only cried when she was alone. As the years passed, the questions lessened. She told Morgan stories about Tony—all the Avengers did—but Morgan stopped coming to her when she wanted to know things. She went to Stephen Strange, Bruce, Nebula, even Carol; she made herself at home in Tony’s old workshop, acquainted herself with the robots and FRIDAY, searched through his files and found music, pictures, videos, became even closer with Peter. She never came to Pepper, though. Never asked her questions. She’d known all along that Morgan would take after Tony, would be smart and prickly like him. She’d never realized that, unlike with Tony, she wouldn’t be enough for her daughter.

_ I wish you were here, Tony _ , she thought.  _ I wish you could help me.  _

“Any reaction at all?” Rhodey asked, interrupting her thoughts. 

She started to answer, but suddenly, she saw Happy striding across the room with his signature agitated bounce.

“I know it’s difficult, Pepper, but you need to talk—”

“Rhodey, you’ll have to excuse me for a minute.” She pushed through the crowd, ignoring a concerned glance from Strange, until she reached Happy. When she tapped his shoulder, he turned around with a jolt, eyes wide. “Problem?” she asked. 

“No, no problem at all,” he said.

“Happy, I’ve known you for more than twenty years. You can’t lie to me.”

He bristled. “I can. I will, if I think it’s best for your peace of mind.”

“Peace of  _ mind _ ?”

“Pepper, you planned a fun night, so go socialize, May and Peter will be here soon—”

“What are you trying to distract me from?” 

“Distract? I would never distract, I fix—”

It clicked. “Where’s Morgan?”

His face flushed as he ran a hand through his beard. “I don’t know.”

“You don’t  _ know _ ?” Her heart pounded. It was a big tower—Morgan was bound to disappear sometimes, especially as a teenager (especially with  _ Tony’s  _ genes), but tonight was her birthday. Tonight was a night Pepper had constructed for Morgan.

Apparently she’d botched that, too. 

“She’s not in the lab? Or in her room, or on our personal floor, or—”

“You know I’ve checked everywhere,” Happy interrupted gently. 

“I know you have.” She closed her eyes, inhaling as she counted to five, then opened them. “I’ll make a phone call.” 

She set her shoulders back and plastered a smile onto her face as she crossed the room; no need for the guests to be concerned. Only when she stepped onto the empty balcony did she frown and let her hands tremble. She took out her phone and dialled a long-memorized number. Wind chilled her back and shoulders as the line rang. She remembered another night on another balcony, nearly thirty years ago; she remembered slipping into a backless dress and Tony’s calloused hand against her skin. What would Tony say if he could see her now?

_ Not now,  _ she thought. She needed to focus. The called connected. 

“Hey!” Peter said. The tension in her shoulders eased upon hearing his voice.  “MJ… uh, MJ and I… we got busy, we had to do something, but I’m swinging over right now, I know I’m late but obviously I’m spending the night and May’s driving over—”

“I can’t find her,” Pepper blurted. “I can’t find Morgan.”

Peter immediately quieted. “When did you last see her?

“Everyone is still here, but I gave her a present from Tony, he set aside something for her for the major birthdays, and she was in the workshop, but I went down to get her, and now she’s gone. Christ, and with the tech situation...”

“Is a suit gone?”

“Maybe. I’m not sure. Call Happy, he was looking for her.”

“I’ll find her, Pepper.”

“Thank you.” She pressed her hand to her forehead. “With everything that’s going on…”

“I know. I’ll find her. I’ll call you when I know something.” 

He ended the call. She pressed the phone to her chest, and not for the first time in twelve years, thanked every god she knew for Peter Parker. He would find Morgan. She didn’t know what the next step would be from there, didn’t even know what was wrong with Morgan tonight, but they would fix it. They always did. 

 

#

 

Peter Parker shoved his phone into his back pocket, then buckled his belt and buttoned his shirt. Duty—more specifically, Pepper Potts-Stark—called. “I have to go,” he said.

MJ stretched back on their bed— _ their _ bed; he still couldn’t believe it was a  _ their _ and not a  _ his _ or  _ the _ —and scrunched up her nose. “Right when things were getting fun. You’re already late for the party.”

Peter blushed. He’d been with her for about ten years on and off and  _ still _ blushed like a kid whenever she spoke like that. “MJ…”

“No, really, I wore my good bra for you even though I’m staying home and working, and you just say you  _ have to go _ .” 

“Morgan is missing.”

“Oh, shit.” MJ tied her hair into a knot atop her head and slipped into Peter’s t-shirt. She wiggled out of her bra and threw it at him. “Like, teenager missing or Avengers-time missing?”

“Pepper thinks teenager missing, but you can never be too careful.”

“Okay.” She hesitated. “Be careful. Love you.” 

Peter managed a smile before racing from the bedroom and down the stairs.  _ Love you _ . She’d been saying those two words more and more, recently.  _ Love you, love you _ . One day, she’d tire of him not saying it back. It wasn’t that he didn’t …love her. He did. It scared him to admit how much he did. It was just that every time he thought of saying the words  _ I love you _ , he wanted to vomit. He hadn’t said them in twelve years. To anyone. 

“Focus, Spider-Man,” he muttered to himself as night air hit his face. 

These days, Peter kept the nanites for his suit on him at all times, with leading the Avengers more missions than not. Tony had, too, right up until Titan, except Peter didn’t have the arc reactor. What he did have, though, were Tony’s sunglasses, and the willpower years ago to fit his suit in the frames. In the alley outside his and MJ’s apartment building, he tapped the side of the frame, and his Spider-Man suit spread over his formal jacket and slacks. He webbed himself up to the window of his and MJ’s apartment, sticking to the wall and poking his head around. For a moment, he only watched. MJ had curled up on the bed, wearing his Stark Industries shirt, and opened her laptop to work on her latest book. Her hair stuck out at every angle from her bun, covering her face and glasses. Heart full, he knocked on the window. She glanced up, and with a shit-eating grin that hadn’t changed since they were sixteen, flipped him off. He waved one more time before swinging to another building.  

That was his woman, through and through. Tony would have liked her.

He couldn’t afford to be mushy, not with Pepper panicking and Morgan gone. “Hey Karen? Any trace on Morgan’s phone?”

“Good evening, Peter,” Karen replied. “Morgan turned off her personal tracking devices.”

“Of course she did. Did she take a suit? Maybe the Rescue armor? Can you coordinate with FRIDAY?”

Karen was silent for a moment before she replied, “FRIDAY put the suit at the top of an abandoned skyscraper six blocks from Stark Towers. I’ll guide you there.”

“Perfect, Karen, thank you.” 

He swung from building to building. After fifteen years of being Spider-Man, he’d expected the thrill to dull, but if anything, it grew. He had his consultant job with SHIELD and Stark Industries, sure, but Spider-Man was his  _ real _ job—and he was a full-time Avenger. Other heroes answered to him, coordinated with him, and in return, he led them the best he could. Sometimes, it wasn’t good enough, but he tried. 

Karen directed him to the correct building; he did a fluid roll and hopped to his feet on the roof. He removed his mask and exhaled, taking his phone from his pocket.  _ Found her,  _ he texted Pepper.  _ All good. Will talk and bring her back to tower.  _

Morgan sat on the opposite edge of the roof, the empty suit behind her and legs dangling off the building’s side. She tipped her head toward the sky, hair blowing away from her face. When she was a child, her hair would hang in her face, covering her eyes; Peter would always push it away. She stopped letting him as she got older. It threw him for a loop at first. In his eyes, she would always be a four year-old asking for juice pops and curling into his lap when he had nightmares. She was sixteen, now, as old as he was when he went to Titan. He had to treat her as he’d wanted Tony to treat him. It was strange, though, to see her at the same age he was when Tony died. Had it truly been that long?

“Hey.” He sat next to her, folding his legs under him instead of letting them hang off the building’s side. 

She offered a weak half smile, her hair falling into her face. “Hi.”

Peter looked out at the city, feeling years younger—and not in a good way. He remembered sitting on rooftops after the Vulture incident, the anxiety and memory of rubble crushing him too much to bear; he remembered Tony sitting next to him in the Iron Man suit and working the truth from him piece by piece. Was he capable of doing the same for Morgan? Helping her? Freeing her from her anxiety?

“You ran away from your own party?” he asked. “Stole a suit and everything?”

She didn’t reply.

“First time in a suit, right?” he tried. 

Still nothing.

He put a hand on her shoulder. “Will you talk to me?”

“Want to know something I hate?” Morgan whispered. 

“Absolutely.”

“Mom can’t even look at me some days because I have his eyes. She says that isn’t it, but I know better. She looks at me and sees him.” She sniffled. “It isn’t her fault. I know she misses him.”

“Morgan—”

“And I feel guilty sometimes, you know? Because I  _ don’t  _ miss him. I miss the idea of having a dad, I miss the memories I didn’t get to make, but him? I don’t know Dad. I don’t know what I’m supposed to be in relation to him. Now I have this.”

She reached into her pocket, then placed something in Peter’s palm. When he looked down, his breath hitched. Pepper wore a necklace with the shards that were once lodged in Tony’s chest; a similar one rested in his hands, a single fragment contained in a glass orb. Peter held it to his heart. 

“A part of him,” she said. “I don’t feel like I deserve it, and Jesus, don’t just tell me I do. I know you’re gonna say that. You always say that.” She paused, then slumped her shoulders. “Sorry for snapping.” 

“It’s okay.” 

Peter remembered himself in the months after. He’d been  _ terrible _ , pushing May away, pushing his friends away. Things got… bad. Very bad. It had taken nearly dying after trying to take down seven super-powered villains at once and a five year-old Morgan sobbing at the foot of his MedBay bed to take a short break. Morgan was doing well, all things considered. 

“I think you have more on your mind than this,” Peter said. 

She drummed her fingers against the concrete. “I talked to Cassie Lang tonight.”

“And?” 

“She mentioned something that gave me ideas.” 

Peter knew Cassie Lang—she fought like a badass in the Wasp suit and matched it with a wicked sense of humor. Nothing safe could come from a Cassie Lang idea. 

“I think you would be interested,” Morgan continued. “Dad and the other Avengers time traveled to get the Infinity Stones.” There was a mischievous glint in her eyes—one he’d often seen in Tony’s. “I know Scott and Hope still have the tech. If not, I could whip something up.  _ We  _ could. I want to go see him at a few different points in time.”

Peter’s breath hitched. How many times had Peter thought of time travel? How many times had he laid awake at night wanting, more than anything, for a way to bring Tony back, or at least see him again? He’d thought of Tony’s arms around him in the heat of the final battle, crumbling to dust in his arms, the two years they’d had between the airport battle and Titan, their first meeting, over and over until it hurt. To hear time travel suggested aloud…

It nearly hurt.  

“I know it’s crazy,” Morgan said. “So say the word. Say,  _ Morgan, I don’t want to time travel and see him again _ , and I’ll shut this down. I promise. I know Mom needs me, and I know you need me, so if you tell me to stop, that it’s too risky and dangerous and will, like, prevent me from being born, I’ll stop.”

“No,” Peter replied. “You won’t.”

Tony wouldn’t have. Tony  _ hadn’t.  _ That was why he was here today. 

After all those years, he couldn’t forget that. Couldn’t release the guilt. It came at strange moments and consumed him. Maybe seeing Tony would ease it. It was dangerous to mess with the timelines, but maybe… just maybe it was worth it. 

“Let’s talk to Scott and Hope later this week,” he said. “Can we get back to your birthday party before your mom and Happy kill me?”

Morgan grinned. “If it’s your life on the line, let’s go.”

 


	2. scott and hope

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Morgan and Peter visit Hope Van Dyne and Scott Lang wanting to put their time travel mission into motion but finding unexpected resistance.

Four days after the birthday party, Peter picked Morgan up at the tower. Usually, Morgan couldn’t shut up around Peter, but today, as he drove into a suburban area, she couldn’t find words that felt appropriate—it seemed like Peter, who was also silent, thought the same. Only once they stopped in front of a ridiculously charming house did Peter say, “We’re here.”

Morgan glanced at the bulky brown van in the driveway. Scott and Hope’s house. She’d been here dozens of times, yet her heart hammered. She had to lie to her mom when Peter picked her up. Pepper thought they were at lunch, not talking to Ant-Man and the fucking  _ Wasp _ about time travel so she could see her dead dad. 

“I’m nervous,” Morgan blurted. “It’s Scott and Hope, but…” 

“I’m nervous, too,” Peter said. 

She stepped out of the car and forced herself to walk confidently. One foot after the other, head up. Instead of ringing the doorbell, she leaned through the van’s open window and pressed the horn. She grinned at Peter as  _ La Cucaracha  _ blared, then leaned against the van. Peter joined her with an eye roll. 

The front door opened. Hope came outside, her arms folded over her chest, and Scott dashed out after her. When he saw Morgan and Peter, he put a hand over his heart and exhaled.

“I thought I was being robbed!” Scott said.

Peter scrunched up his face. “Why… why would the robbers honk?” 

“Last time Luis stole the van, he honked.” Hope shook her head. “We’ve made a game out of taking it. Makes things fun.” 

“Dad! Hope! Is Luis stealing the van again?” Cassie jogged onto the porch, and a grin split across her face. “Oh. Hey Peter, Morgan.”

Morgan matched Cassie’s smile and jogged ahead to join her. Scott and Hope fell in behind them, beside Peter, Hope hugging Peter tightly. Peter had told her the story of how Hope, Carol, her mom, and the other female Avengers saved his life during the ultimate battle against Thanos; since then, he’d become close with all the women, but particularly Hope—something to do with her and Scott settling near Queens and Hope living most of her life without a mother. If anyone could help them, it would be them. 

“I have a feeling this isn’t an innocent visit,” Cassie said as the screen door shut behind them. “

“It’s never innocent when a Stark’s at my door, Peanut,” Scott said. Morgan glared. “Hey, don’t give me that look! I’m not blaming you. I’m a criminal, I don’t mind not-innocent.”

“ _ Was  _ a criminal,” Hope said. “Because you got bored.”

“Jail hardened me, let me have my moment.”

“Is being Ant-Man not enough?”

“Half my friends are ex-convicts, so—”

Morgan cleared her throat. Hope and Scott stopped talking, shooting each other accusatory yet fond glances. Her chest clenched. Had her mom and dad shot each other similar looks? Had they shared private smiles and happy moments that Morgan couldn’t remember?

Cassie led them into the kitchen. Hope and Scott got drinks for everyone; Peter settled in at the kitchen table, but Morgan remained standing. Morgan shot Peter a questioning look, but he was in full Avengers-mode, eyes forward and shoulders straightened. When Scott sat across from him, though, he smiled boyishly.  _ That  _ was the Peter she knew. 

“Morgan and I have been thinking,” he began. 

“That’s dangerous,” Scott said.

Peter chuckled, but his brow remained knitted. “The quantum realm tech.”

Hope’s smile fell. “What about it?”

“We, uh…” Peter exhaled. “We want to visit Tony in different points in time.” 

“That tech has been in storage since Cap used it,” Hope said. “It’s old, it’s—”

“Still functional,” Peter finished. “Shuri indexed all our tech a year ago.”

“Wait, she did?” Scott said. “Nobody told me that.” 

“I knew,” Cassie said. “Shuri is so freaking cool. Like, cooler than I can ever hope to be. We went for milkshakes and fries. She gave me vibranium brass knuckles.”

“ _ What _ ?” 

“She indexed it, and it  _ worked _ .” Peter leaned his elbows on the table. Everyone quieted, like they usually did when Peter spoke.  “Morgan doesn’t know her dad, and I…” He swallowed hard. “We know the risks, and we’re willing to take them.”

“That’s not a good idea,” Hope said. “We had a long talk with Strange after Cap passed. There were alternate timelines to clean up—lots of work for his him and his friends. You couldn’t change the past through actions, only create alternate timeline, but information passed on had ripple effects. You tell Tony too much, you could affect our future and this timeline. It’s best that we don’t use it. His actions are too important to the world we know.”

“Scott?” Peter said. He was calm. Too calm. Hope was saying  _ no _ . She opened her mouth to speak, but Peter placed a calming hand on her knee. 

“Man, I want to give you a different answer, but Cap’s trip convinced us. Nothing but trouble in time traveling. There are possibilities…”

“Possibilities?” Morgan stood, almost upsetting her drink. “So we could see him?”

“Technically, yes, but look, there could be hell to pay, and if people know we’re time traveling again —”

“So we keep it quiet. Discrete.”

“Discrete is difficult—”

“Discrete is  _ possible _ , just like me meeting my dad is possible. We could steal the tech from you, you know. My dad  _ invented _ it.”

“The answer has to be no, Morgan,” Hope said. 

Morgan sat down. Hard.  _ Thud.  _ Her heart in her chest.  _ Thud.  _ Her dad’s coffin being lowered into the ground.  _ Thud.  _ She couldn’t get emotional. People didn’t like it when she got emotional, because Tony Stark and Pepper Potts-Stark weren’t emotional in public. They expected that from her, and Peter, too. So she glanced between Hope and Scott, helpless. 

“Hang on,” Cassie said. “So you don’t want to help them?”

Scott sighed. “Peanut, it’s more complicated than—

“Don’t _peanut_ me.” She pointed at Scott. “You weren’t there for a long time when I was little because you were in prison, and then _again_ for five years. And you!” She turned on Hope, finger still crooked. “Your mom was missing for thirty years. Thirty. Years. You have the chance to help them reunite with their dad—”

Peter coughed. “He, uh, wasn’t biologically my—”

“Their  _ dad _ ,” Cassie said. “Who died to save the universe.”

“Please.” Morgan’s voice wavered. “I just want him to see me.” 

Scott’s face softened. He glanced at Hope, whose eyes were fixed on the table. “Hope,” he said. “There has to be something…”

“Four trips,” Hope said. “That’s all I can give you two. That’s all the particles can give you.  _ Four.  _ No bargaining, no batting your eyelashes at me, Parker.”

“I wouldn’t,” Peter said. 

“Thank you,” Morgan blurted. She looked to Cassie, who had tears brimming in her eyes. “Truly, thank you.”

She and Peter left a few minutes later with a date and a plan. Two days from now, they would come back. They would have four locations. They would take a day between each of their trips and rest. They would not reveal their true identities to versions of Tony who didn’t know them and not speak to the ones who did. A thousand other rules. Even with those hanging over her, a new excitement consumed Morgan—nervousness, too. How would her mom react?

“Where do you want to go?” Peter asked once they were in the car. He started the engine, but didn’t drive. “I’m sure you have ideas.”

She did. Lots of them. Alone, she’d pick four places in time that served her best, gave her the insight she wanted and showed who exactly Tony Stark was, but she saw the desperate glint in Peter’s eyes. He needed this as much as she did. Perhaps more.

“We should each pick two,” she said. 

“No, no, you should pick. You should definitely pick.” Peter’s eyes strayed to the steering wheel. “You’re his daughter.”

“That’s ridiculous, you were basically his son. You’re my brother.” 

He didn’t raise his eyes. 

She gripped his hand, as he’d often done when she was upset. “We’re gonna do this the right way, dude. You pick two locations, I pick two. Mine are 2007, before he became Iron Man, and 2022, right before… before he time traveled.”

Peter offered a half-smile. “You’ve thought about this.”

“I have, and I’d bet my inheritance the same can be said for you.”

“2012, Battle of New York,” Peter said. “And 2017, Queens.”

“Was that so hard?” 

“I suppose not.” 

They were quiet as he drove away, until she finally asked, “Will you tell May and MJ?”

Peter scoffed. “I’ve learned keeping secrets from them isn’t in my best interest.”

“Will you tell my Mom?”

He glanced at her before turning back to the road. Despite his youth, he had the eyes of someone who’d seen too much, lost too much, in too short a time. She didn’t remember his gaze ever being less tragic. She wished she could. 

“I don’t think that’s my place,” Peter finally said. 

“It kinda is,” Morgan replied, even as relief washed over her. 

“I won’t tell her.”

She’d mention it to her mom, Morgan told herself. She would. Eventually.

Perhaps once she returned home successful, knowing her dad, knowing the full extent of who she was, she would, and finally be able to share something happy with her.  

 

#

 

That night, after he dropped Morgan back at the tower, he invited May over for dinner and made sure MJ would be home. As he cooked curry, he couldn’t get the hairs on the back of his neck to settle. His senses had somewhat settled since his teenage years, but anxiety sent him spiralling back to the past.  _ Time travel.  _ Tony wouldn’t approve. Tony would’ve told him he was being reckless. Tony, though, wasn’t there, so time travel it was. With Morgan. His sister. He was bringing his little sister, Tony’s  _ daughter _ , into this. 

MJ wrapped her arms around his middle and rested her head on his shoulder as he cooked. “Hiya,” she said. 

He nudged her stomach gently. “Hello, hello.” 

She pulled away sat on the countertop. “Know what today is?” 

“I know I didn’t forget an anniversary.” 

“Liz Toomes’ birthday.”

“Oh.” Peter  _ had  _ forgotten. He added coconut milk to the pan, then covered it. He didn’t meet MJ’s eyes. Liz. He remembered her as she was before she moved—driven, intelligent, kind. On the day of the snap, she’d been in the passenger seat of Doris Toomes’ car. Her mom turned to dust. The car careened into a river. When  _ Tony  _ snapped, Doris reappeared. Liz didn’t. “How old would she have been?”

“Big three-zero.” She hugged Peter again, keeping her arms around him this time. “I shouldn’t have brought it up.” 

“No, no, it’s okay.” He thought about Liz a lot as it was. The Vulture, too. It was hard to forget his first big villain, the first man who wanted to kill him. He half-wondered where Adrian Toomes was today. 

“You’re anxious, though.”

“Am not.”

“Are too. Tell me.” She poked his ribs. “Tell  _ meeeeeeeee _ .”

He managed to stave off any questions and finish dinner. He managed to open the door and greet May with a hug—he held her tighter than usual. He managed to smile, to hold a conversation, to serve the food, to make small talk, until he put his fork down. 

“Morgan and I are going to time travel and see Tony,” he said without preamble. 

MJ choked and coughed, thumping her chest. May set her fork down, lips pressed together. All over his body, his hairs pricked up. 

“I’m sure I heard you wrong,” May said. “Because I think I heard you say that you’re going to travel through time, to—where are you going?”

“2007, to before he was Iron Man. 2012, Battle of New York. 2017, when we were together. 2022, when Morgan was a child.”

“Great.” She sipped her wine, draining three-quarters of the glass. “Just great.” 

“You can’t tell Pepper. She’d never let Morgan go.”

May scoffed. “What makes you think I’ll let you go?”

“I’m twenty-eight and have been Spider-Man for fourteen years. Morgan’s a minor who only set foot in an Iron Man suit a few nights ago. It needs to be a secret on her part.”

May looked to MJ. “You’ve been uncharacteristically quiet.”

MJ shrugged. “He has his mind made up.”

_ That  _ didn’t sound right. Even if he did, MJ always made her opinion known, positive or negative. She wasn’t one for ambivalence. 

“Is it right for you to be going?” May said. “With the people looking for Tony’s old tech?”

“Morgan and I would only be gone for about ten seconds, from your perspective.”

“Cap came back as an old man,” MJ said. “Would you come back all wrinkly and gross?”

“The goal is, uh, not to do that, and Cap had other issues, probably some untreated PTSD and major survivor’s guilt, you know, so Morgan and I—”

“Kidding.” MJ grinned. “Slightly, of course.”

“I just want to do something good for Morgan, you know?” Peter looked desperately at May. “She’s really feeling that he’s gone. It…”

“Reminds you of yourself, right?” May said. “She’s the same age you were when it happened.” She took his hand across the table. “I know you’ll do this no matter what. I don’t need to give you my blessing, baby. I trust you.”

Something in him settled. 

The rest of the evening passed uneventfully, May trying a new argument to dissuade him every fifteen minutes but ultimately dropping the subject. She knew the reality of his life, and with time, would accept it. When she left, though, a loaded silence descended between him and MJ. They needed to talk about it more. He just didn’t know what to say, and there was someone else he needed to speak with. 

“Coming to bed?” MJ asked.

Peter sat on the couch and stared at his phone. “In a minute.” 

He waited until she closed their bedroom door before dialling a number. He pressed the phone to his ear and cupped his free hand around the back of his neck. 

“Hello?” 

Harley Keener’s voice came through from the other line. 

“So I, uh, have a question for you,” Peter said. 

“Hello, fellow and forever Starkling,” Harley replied. “How are you? What’s been going on lately? Isn’t that how people usually start conversations?”

Peter laughed. He liked Harley. They met at Tony’s funeral and exchanged phone numbers as a formality, but as weeks passed and the world slowly moved on, their calls and texts became more frequent. A lot of people missed Iron Man, but few missed Tony Stark. Few understood Peter’s unique pain, and Harley was one of them. Harley remained in Tennessee, but they still texted every few days. 

“So, what’s up?” Harley said. “Do I need to come to New York? I’d love to. Tennessee really isn’t Iron Man territory, although I love the suit I have.”

“I have a question.” Peter’s voice trembled. “Do you want to time travel and see Tony?” 

Harley quieted. 

“Morgan and I are going to go. 2007, 2012, 2017, and 2022. There’s room for one more.”

“Peter.” Harley sighed. “I don’t think that’s a good idea for you or for me.” 

“What?” 

“I don’t think it’s a good idea. You remember how bad it was when he first died. Reopening old wounds can’t bring anything good. It’s been twelve years. I’ve healed.” 

_ I haven’t _ . Peter pushed back the words. “Harley—”

“I won’t tell you not to go. I just want you to think about this for more than a minute.” 

“I’ve been thinking about it all day.”

“Think about it from his perspective.” 

“Tony time traveled to save the universe.”  _ To save me.  _ Tony never had a choice, though. Obligation versus desire. 

“I’m not trying to talk you out of it, man. I hope you find what you’re looking for. Just be careful, okay? Lots of people who need you here.”

They chatted for a few more minutes before Peter hung up. He remained on the couch for a few minutes, thoughts racing, until he stood and went to their bedroom. MJ was changing into her pajamas, so he went into the bathroom. As he brushed his teeth, he leaned against the countertop, still lost in his worries. Harley had a point— _ was  _ this a good idea? Was he bringing Morgan into unnecessary danger? Would Tony approve of what he was doing?

“Did you fall in?” MJ called from the bed. 

He chuckled and spat out the toothpaste, then stumbled from the bathroom and collapsed onto the bed next to her. She grinned.

“Thank God,” she said. “I thought I’d become a widow before we could even get married. Imagine the headlines. Queens woman loses boyfriend to bathroom accident.”

Peter scoffed. “Please.”

Her smiled softened. She pulled his head onto her thigh and carded her hand through his hair. He pushed himself deeper into her hold, and for the first time that day, allowed tears to run down his cheeks. She pressed her nose into his curls. With her heartbeat in his ear, his anxiety loosened. 

“You’re not mad at me?” he murmured. 

“Mad?” she said. “No. I figured it was only a matter of time before you wanted to see Stark again, and with the way you live, you have the means.”

“I’m scared to go.”

“I’d be concerned if you weren’t.”

“It’s more than scared, though. I’m terrified. Like, sure, I’ve been to space, I’m leading the Avengers, I’m freaking Spider-Man, but I’ve never  _ time traveled.  _ It’s insane.  _ Insane,  _ and I’m bringing a sixteen year-old. She’s barely sixteen and doesn’t want to tell her mom.”

“You were sixteen when you fought Thanos.”

“Look at how well that worked out for me.”

“Yeah, um.” MJ tilted his head so he was looking into her eyes. “I didn’t want to say this in front of May and make her freak, but seeing Tony again… that won’t trigger anything, will it?”

He stiffened. He was sixteen again, wind blowing through his hair, toes hanging off the edge of a skyscraper, his heart thundering and thoughts wild. He was staring down a painting of Iron Man on the opposite building, an ache in his chest so terrible that it threatened to consume everything he was and could ever be.

“Hey, no, none of that.” MJ kissed his cheeks, his forehead, his lips, then helped him sit up. He was trembling. She held his hands tightly. “You’re okay, Peter. It’ll be okay.”

“I say I’m doing it for Morgan, but MJ, I…”

“You want this,” she finished. “That’s a good thing. You should be a little selfish. I know what you would give to see him.” 

“Anything.” He would’ve given his heart, his powers, anything, for another day, another  _ hour  _ with Tony. Oftentimes, he wondered who he’d be in a reality where Tony Stark survived, and some days, he thought he liked that Peter better. “Absolutely anything.” 

“I know.” She cupped his face, then pushed him onto the mattress. “Sleep. You’re tired.”

“Are you scared?” he asked. 

She laid down next to him, their noses nearly touching. “I’m always scared for you. I’m just very good at hiding it.”

He closed his eyes. “I’ll come home to you.”

Briefly, before he fell asleep, a question came to mind.

Twelve years ago, had Tony made a similar promise to Pepper?

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for the comments/kudos on the first chapter!! Don't forget you can find me on tumblr as [such-geekiness](https://such-geekiness.tumblr.com/) \-- feel free stop by and talk to me about this story or Marvel in general, I love hearing from new people :)


	3. malibu, 2007

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter and Morgan make their first journey into the past, but their time at a Stark Industries party shows Morgan that her father wasn’t always the man she remembers.

As Morgan stood in Scott Lang’s backyard, waiting while Hope and Scott prepped the _time machine_ , she tried to calm her nerves. In less than ten minutes, she’d be traveling. Through _time._ To see her dad. Tony Stark. In the flesh. He’d be alive. 

She hadn’t slept more than an hour or so at a time last night, thinking of her parents each time she woke—specifically, her mom. Pepper would never approve of time travel. Morgan felt selfish, almost, for doing this, especially without telling her and swearing Peter to secret. What if something went wrong? Her mom would be completely alone, with no family left. Another part of her, though, whispered that she was justified in doing this. She lived as part of a legacy—the Stark legacy. Couldn’t she do something for herself? 

Still, she couldn’t forget her mother’s question as she left this morning— _ where are you going? _ —and her lie in response.  _ Just to hang out with Peter.  _ It wasn’t entirely a lie, because she was hanging out with Peter—just in a different era. 

“Almost there,” Hope called. “We’ll be ready for you and Peter in a moment.”

Morgan looked down at herself, her loose hair curtaining her face. Her burgundy evening gown—entirely made from nanotech—hugged her waist and hips and flared out at the bottom over open-toed heels. She liked how it felt. She liked how  _ she  _ felt. Powerful. Smart. Ambitious. She reached into her pocket and took out a pair of tinted sunglasses—they’d belonged to her dad, and before leaving the lab this morning, she’d put them in her pocket. It seemed right. Her heart thudded as she slid them onto her face. 

“Okay, we need to…” Peter trailed off as he walked out of the house. He’d changed into a navy suit—nanites again—and white dress shirt. The bags under his eyes were less pronounced, but when his eyes found her, his mouth dropped open. 

Morgan flushed, her confidence fading. “I don’t look that bad.”

“No, no, it’s not that,” he said. “I forget you’re his kid sometimes, but right now… right now, you remind me of him. A lot.”

“Oh,” she whispered. 

She bowed her head as he went to help Hope and Scott, pushing the sunglasses up on her nose. Someone touched her back lightly. Cassie. The other girl smiled. 

“If Peter wasn’t taken,” Cassie said. “He looks nice. Think MJ would fight me for him?”

“Ew, gross.” Morgan scrunched up her nose. “That’s my brother.”

“I know. Just trying to distract you. 2007, huh? What do you actually know? What was your dad up to that year?”

“I’m not entirely sure.” Her mom didn’t talk much about the time before her dad was Iron Man, only that he ran Stark Industries and was betrayed. She’d never thought to dig into archives—it felt like an invasion of privacy, both Pepper’s and Tony’s. Even waiting for today, she couldn’t bring herself to do research. Her mom would’ve told her anything important.”

“You have to be a little scared,” Cassie said.

“No.” She paused. “Maybe. Okay, yes. Yes, I’m afraid.” 

“Good. Never go into anything unafraid. The thing is, you gotta decide what you want out of this. That’s what I had to do when I suited up with Dad and Hope for the first time. So, the question remains. What do you want, Mo?”

_ To see my dad, _ she thought.

No. Too uncomplicated. Too basic. 

_ To know him better.  _

Still too simplistic. 

_ To know if I am enough.  _ She swallowed hard.  _ To know if I am even a shadow of him. To know what my place in this is.  _ Because the Avengers’ story was far from over. Perhaps one chapter ended when Tony died, but the world still needed heroes. Whenever Rhodey, Peter, or even her mom left for missions, she had an urge to ask to go with, but could never summon the courage. Maybe this would change things. 

“We should check if they’re ready,” Morgan said, not answering Cassie’s questions. 

Peter and Hope were deep in conversation as she approached. “Wilson and Barnes reported to me last night,” Peter said. She loved listening to him when he was in Avengers-mode—there was something thrilling about seeing her typically-humorous brother act like a leader. “The criminals are scoping out the tower, but—” 

Hope cleared her throat when she saw Morgan. Peter stopped speaking and turned to her with a grin that didn’t feel quite real. Before she could say anything, though, Scott shoved watch-like devices into hers and Peter’s hands. 

“These are your ticket to other times,” Scott said. “Particles are stored in the wristband. I had a brilliant idea, too. There’s the means for communication on there now, too, so if something goes wrong, you two aren’t dead in the water. If something’s  _ really  _ wrong, you can send a message to another year. Cool, right?” 

“That’s perfect, Scott,” Peter said. 

He slid the device onto his hand, and Morgan mirrored his actions. God, she was  _ so  _ out of her element, but he seemed comfortable. When he tapped his device twice, she did the same. Nanotech crawled over her body, absorbing her dress. Soon, she was clad in a black bodysuit with gold across her thighs, sides, and arms; a small Avengers logo sat on her chest. 

“I did a redesign, because why not?” Scott added with a grin. “Something to honor him.” 

“I love it,” Morgan replied. A helmet came to cover her face. She glanced to her right and watched a similar one come to cover Peter’s face, save his eyes. He nodded. The gesture said that he was with her, that he would protect her, as he always did. She would do the same. 

“Good luck!” Hope called. 

With a flash, they were traveling. 

She’d seen Carol Danvers fly before—body glowing with energy, hair billowing from her helmet, fists curled at her side. She’d wished for a fraction of that power. Soaring through the quantum realm, Peter by her side, she thought that maybe she’d found it. Had her dad felt like that when flying in the Iron Man suit? What would change if she knew the armor in and out? Would she appear as powerful as Carol? As her dad?

“Landing!” Peter shouted. 

She braced herself, and the world rushed in around her. As she blinked, noise sparked and popped, stray sounds gathering to form a blaze of music and voices. Lights flashed. She blinked, trying to rid the black stripes and white blobs clouding her sight. Peter grabbed her hand and pressed the device. Her skirt billowed around her ankles; her vision slid into focus. 

“Holy shit,” Morgan said. “Where exactly are we?”

“Annual company party.” Peter furrowed his brow. “Pre-Afghanistan.”

“I thought my party was bad.”

Limousines lined the street. Hundreds of women in glitzy dresses and men in form-fitting suits walked inside the hall along a red carpet. Morgan smoothed her skirt, feeling underdressed as she and Peter worked their way into the crowd. He hooked her arm through his, stiff. Paparazzi’s cameras flashed. The constant barrage of brightness burned her eyes—she couldn’t imagine how Peter felt with his dialled-up senses. 

“You okay?” she asked when they stepped onto the red carpet. 

“What? Oh, yeah, yeah, I’m fine. Completely fine.” His voice was about two octaves too high. “I’m good. Let’s just… look around. Remember your pseudonym. Remember the rules.”

She bowed her head away from the cameras as they stepped inside. Peter swore under his breath. The only word she could conjure was  _ extravagant.  _ Enough food and alcohol to serve every Avenger with their heightened metabolism lined the edges of the room; waiters navigated through the crowds with trays of champagne. Guests meandered among heightened circular tables, while others made their way to the dance floor before a stage. It was glitzy, grandiose, almost Hollywood. Every diamond necklace and glittering light oozed status and money. Morgan’s breath hitched.

“This was his life?” she asked. 

“From what I know, yeah,” Peter said. “It’s…” 

When he trailed off, she followed his gaze. She held tight to Peter’s arm. Her dad appeared on the stage, and everyone stopped to applaud. He wore a black suit and a languid, cocky smile; his hair was dark, his face unlined and shirtfront smooth. Happy stood close behind him, glancing suspiciously from guest to guest. 

“Good to see everyone here tonight,” her dad said. “I’m, you know, Tony Stark. If you don’t know that, I don’t know why you’re here.”

The crowd chuckled. Morgan moved closer. Her dad had a gravity to him—she could see how it was easy to be pulled into his sphere and fall into orbit. 

“I know Obie has you all whipped and scared, too. We need to test the weapons on somebody before they go to the boys on the front line, right? Isn’t that what he tells you?”

“Boys on the front line?” Morgan whispered as another peal of laughter floated up. 

Peter pressed his lips into a tight line. “Stark Industries provided weapons to the US government before he was kidnapped.”

Morgan pressed her lips together. She knew the basics of her dad’s story, sure, but she should’ve looked beyond those. Who kidnapped him and why? What was he doing in Afghanistan? She’d never thought to question anything her mom told her, never thought to do more research.  _ Stupid _ . She should have.

“Was is the key word,” Peter added. “They don’t have anything to do with that now.” 

“Better not,” Morgan muttered. 

“Anyways, we’re here to celebrate peace,” Tony continued onstage. “I’m manufacturing it, I’m distributing it, and soon enough, everyone will know what it’s like to live in a world where we set the tone.” He grinned and raised a glass. “To peace. Enjoy the night.”

_ To peace.  _

“He meant war,” Morgan murmured. 

Peter remained quiet. How much did  _ he  _ know?

She looked to where her dad left the stage. Her mom, wearing a modest black cocktail dress and an earpiece, followed him and Happy along the edge of the room, talking rapidly. Tony walked backwards and waved his hands as he spoke—no, shouted. Her mom shouted back. A vein in her dad’s neck throbbed. 

_ Alive,  _ she thought, trembling.  _ Alive, alive, alive.  _ Judging from Peter’s wide eyes and taut muscles, he had the same thoughts. 

Pepper walked away, throwing her hands up in a huff. Tony and Happy were alone. 

“I’m going to talk to him,” she blurted. 

“Wait, what? Morgan, no.” Peter grabbed for her arm, but she moved from his reach. 

“Da—Tony!” She elbowed through the crowd, ignoring indignant cries from the stupid guests. “Mr. Stark! Excuse me, Mr. Stark!” God, she had a thousand things to say to him, a thousand vague questions to ask that would mean everything to her but hopefully nothing to him. Maybe he would smile. Maybe he would like her. That was what she wanted, right?

Tony stopped.

She took three long strides and stood in front of her dad. 

She curled her fists at her sides and tried not to stare.  _ Don’t cry.  _ She gritted her teeth.  _ No tears _ . As music blared around them, Tony watched her expectantly. 

“Sweetheart, I don’t have all day,” he said. She nearly gasped. His voice was scratchier than she’d expected, a little deeper, and he followed his words with a slight smirk. “You have something to say to me?”

“Hey, hey,  _ heeeeeey _ .” Peter skidded to a stop next to her. Good. He would start talking and make things less awkward. That’s what he usually did.

Except he wasn’t talking. He was staring at Tony, tears in his eyes, hands shaking. 

“Okay, uh, hi,” Morgan said. Her voice squeaked on the  _ hi.  _

“Alright, let’s get this show on the road.” Her dad peered at them over his sunglasses. “Who are you two?”

“I’m Maria Rogers,” she replied. 

Tony quirked his eyebrow at Happy. “Isn’t that a nightmare of a name?  _ That’s  _ an alternate universe I don’t wanna see. And you?”

“B-B-Ben Parker,” Peter said. 

Tony rolled his eyes. “Glad to know you can speak in complete sentences.”

Morgan swallowed hard. “I, uh—”

“Tony!” Pepper called, striding up to Tony. “You have a call from the Air Force—”

Tony cocked his head to the side. “Rhodey.”

“Not Colonel Rhodes, he wants to ask you about—”

“No,” Tony interrupted. “No, no, no. I don’t want to deal with whatever it is, so why don’t you take care of it, right? Like I pay you to do?”

That… that wasn’t right. Morgan looked between her mom and dad. Her  _ mom _ and her  _ dad _ , who currently seemed ready to murder each other. 

“There’s a problem with one of the weapons,  _ Mr. Stark _ ,” Pepper said. “A malfunction.”

“I don’t care,  _ Miss Potts _ ,” Tony countered. “Whatever weapon it was could have gained sentience and slaughtered an entire unit. I. Don’t. Care. Figure it out and don’t involve me. I want to get drunk. Go to Obie or Rhodey or whoever.”

“Fine. Deal with them, go find Miss July, whatever.” Pepper stormed away. 

_ Miss July?  _ Morgan mouthed. 

Peter grimaced. With all his grimacing and frowning, she wanted to know how  _ he  _ thought this would all go.

“Maria. Miss Rogers.” Tony snapped in her face. “What do you want?”

“I have, uh, I have a few questions,” she managed. 

“Are you a reporter?”

“Yes,” Peter interrupted. “We are.”

“Nah.” Tony scrunched up his nose—she recognized the expression from the mirror. “Chick here is too young. Are you anti-war activists or something?”

“If you snuck in, that’s illegal,” Happy said.

“Easy, Hap, I got this.” Her dad chuckled. The sound was cold. Uncaring. “If you’re part of the anti-war crowd, you can’t tell me anything I haven’t heard before. I sell weapons, and that’s who I am. If you have a problem with it, go talk to my lawyers and—.”

Morgan’s face burned. “I’m not…” 

“We are, we’re anti-war people, and we’ve made a  _ mistake _ ,” Peter said. “We’ll be going.”

“No,” Morgan said. “Finish what you were saying, Mr. Stark.”

Tony narrowed his eyes. “Are you from Brown? Columbia, maybe? You’re naive. Untested. Sweetheart, I can read your type because I see them all the time. You came here looking for something, but you’ll never find it because you don’t have the balls to find it. What do you want from me? Some story about a hero? Won’t find it here, not when you don’t have it in yourself.”

Peter took her arm, but she wrenched herself from his grasp.

“How dare you?” Morgan said. “What the  _ hell _ ?” 

“ _ Maria _ —” Peter started.

“I’m going to ask you some questions, Mr. Stark, and damn it, you’re going to listen.” She curled her fists and crowded Tony’s space. “Do you know, Mr.  _ Stark _ , what your company is doing when you aren’t watching? Do you know, Mr. Stark, how your weapons affect people? Mr. Stark, do you know what will happen to you in less than a year? What your life will become?”

“Whoa, is that a threat?” Happy said. 

Morgan ignored him and jammed her finger into his chest. There was no hole. No arc reactor. Only flesh. “Do you know, Mr. Stark, who you’re supposed to be? Because I—”

“I’m sorry.” Peter pulled Morgan away from her dad, hands tight on her arms. “She doesn’t know what she’s saying, she’s—”

“I know exactly what I’m saying. I—”

“Is this young lady bothering you, Tony?” 

Morgan and Peter both turned at the new voice. Peter instantly tensed, even though her dad and Happy relaxed. A man—a big man, with a smarmy smile and shifty eyes—approached, his fingers looped through his belt. He looked from Peter to Morgan, grinning, his gaze lingering on Morgan. Peter moved between Morgan and the new man. 

“She’ll be leaving, Obie,” Tony said.

Morgan scoffed. “Damn right I will be. You, Mr. Stark, are an asshole.”

“Isn’t the first time I’ve heard it, won’t be the last.”

She strode a few feet away, but Peter lingered. The name lingered in her ear.  _ Obie.  _ She knew she’d heard it before—where? She shook the thought away. More important matters were at hand. How had her mom never told her any of this? She knew he hadn’t always been in the superhero business, but she assumed he’d done something… good.

Peter said something to her dad that made him freeze before he walked to rejoin Morgan, his expression impossible to read. 

“We’re leaving,” she said. 

He nodded. “Okay.” 

She pushed through the crowd again until she found herself outside, among the paparazzi and flashing cameras. She ignored them. Her father  _ lived _ like this. In this make-believe world with make-believe things and cardboard cut-out people in their glittery dresses and expensive suits. He lived with facades and fakes. He sold war masquerading as peace. How? How could the man in that room be her dad? 

“Morgan…” Peter said. 

She tapped her device. The quantum realm suit replaced her dress. “How much did you know about this?” she asked. 

“I… I did some research about his past,” Peter said. 

“He sold  _ weapons _ and didn’t care.”

“He made weapons for the Avengers, too.”

“That’s different! He’s a superhero, he’s…” She blinked back tears. Peter looked at her, face still neutral. How could be neutral? “How did you think this would go?”

“I didn’t think you would talk to him.”

“You didn’t think I would take the one chance… never mind. Let’s go.” 

She tapped the bracelet, and he did the same. After a moment, they were traveling, but she felt none of the joy from earlier, only a pit in the bottom of her stomach that didn’t settle when Scott’s backyard appeared. On the machine’s platform, she stared at Peter, took in his guilty expression. Scott, Cassie, and Hope spoke, but their voices were white noise. 

“You knew,” she whispered. “How much aren’t you telling me about him?”

No answer. 

“Don’t I have a right to know?” she said. 

“Whoa, what happened?” Scott asked. “You guys look…”

Morgan couldn’t be there any longer. She jumped off the platform and sidestepped Cassie, then ran until she reached Peter’s car. She picked the passenger side lock, then sat inside, arms folded over her chest, and forced herself not to cry. Her mom should have told her some of this. _ Any  _ of this. Had he not always been the man she thought him to be?

Soon enough, Peter got into the driver’s seat. He started the car, but didn’t drive.

“Talk,” he said. 

“That man,” Morgan began, “was  _ not  _ my dad. He can’t be.” 

“Morgan—” 

“He was an asshole! Did you see him? Hell, did you hear him? Did you hear the way he talked to my mom? Did you hear how you spoke to me?”

“Things changed, he went through a lot, and he’s not the same man—”

“He was selfish. He didn’t care what his weapons could do.”

“Like I said, things—”

“No wonder he left us.”

Peter clenched his hands around the driving wheel, silent and pale. The wheel cracked under his grip. Finally, almost too quietly to hear, he said, “You don’t get to say that.”

“Stop it,” Morgan said. “You weren’t even his real son.”

She realized what she’d said as soon as the words left her mouth. Peter’s face crumpled, but he turned, trying to hide it. She saw, though—his downturned lips, furrowed brow, and watery eyes. In the distance, a siren blared. Peter flinched, the hairs on his neck and arms standing up. Morgan’s stomach turned. He was sensitive to noises, but he didn’t physically react unless he was stressed or anxious. Holy shit. What had she done?

“Peter…” she started, but his cellphone rang. She bit her lip as he answered the call. 

“Sam?” He cupped his hand around the back of his neck. “Yeah. Yeah, yeah, I’m available.” He glanced to Morgan. “Yeah, I have her with me. I’ll drop her with Scott and Hope, just in case. Do we know where Pepper is? Okay, good. Good, see you in a few.” 

He hung up. “Out of the car,” he said. “There’s a lead on the weapons guy at a warehouse. I’m meeting Barnes and Wilson.”

She swallowed hard. “I could help—”

“No, you’re going to stay with Scott and Hope. Out.”

“Peter, I’m—”

“I need to go, Morgan. This is the first lead we’ve had in weeks.”

“Okay.” She stepped out of the car.  _ I’m sorry,  _ she wanted to say.  _ I didn’t mean it.  _ Before she could form the words, though, he tore off, leaving a cloud of dust behind him, and leaving her alone with her thoughts. 

 

#

 

Morgan looked different during dinner. 

Pepper couldn’t put her finger on it. Her daughter picked at her food rather than devouring it, as she usually did, and sat at the table without  _ once _ asking to bring her plate down to the lab. There was a smidge of mascara under her eyes, too, like she’d been crying.

“How was Peter today?” Pepper tried. 

Morgan pushed her peas around on the plate. “Fine.”

“Just fine?”

“Yeah, he’s fine.” Morgan set her fork down. “Dad sold weapons.”

“Dad did what?”

“Stark Industries was a weapons company, and you never told me.” 

Pepper winced. She’d… obscured parts of the past from Morgan. Like the timeline for Stark Industries’ original business venture. Morgan didn’t need to know Tony’s attitudes and involvement in selling weapons. That was a part of their past she didn’t need to worry about. Morgan had enough issues with people harassing her about the Stark legacy.

“You knew, Mom,” Morgan said. “You know everything. I’ve been reading this afternoon. I hacked into the original SI files. I read about the kidnapping, about Obadiah Stane, about  _ everything.  _ Things you could’ve told me.” 

“Yes.” Pepper forced her lips not to tremble.  _ Steady on,  _ she thought.  _ Steady.  _ “People can change. Your dad was a lot of different people over the years.”

“Peter knew the truth.”

“Is that what you’re mad about? That he knew something about Dad that you didn’t?”

“No.” Her jaw twitched, like it always did when she lied. 

“You are.”

Morgan pushed away her food and looked away. “I’m mad that I didn’t know, yeah, but I also said something really mean to Peter, and I don’t know how to fix it.” 

“What’d you say?” 

“I’m not repeating it.”

“Well…” Pepper had to approach this carefully. Morgan’s mind was obviously on Tony. She didn’t need Pepper’s approach. “Your dad spoke before he thought quite a bit. I’m sure that’s what you did. Maybe you should just go talk to him?”

“Can I go now?”

“Sweetheart, there’s the situation with the tech, and—”

“Please,” Morgan whispered. 

Pepper sighed, looking at her full dinner plate and wine glass. Just once… a complete dinner with her daughter, on just one night would be nice, but she understood. Morgan needed to go see Peter, and even if she said no, she’d find a way to go anyways.

Just like Tony. 

“Be careful,” Pepper said. 

Morgan grinned, and she knew she made the right decision.  

 

#

 

“You don’t look so hot, Spidey,” Sam Wilson said

Peter moved the bunched-up t-shirt away from his bleeding nose to glare at Sam. “‘M fine,” he managed. He was fine, actually. He had bigger problems than some goon that managed to land a kick to his nose. The bastard had gotten away, too. They’d let their best lead on whoever was seeking Stark tech get  _ away.  _ He’d left an ancient flash drive, though. With the computers and technology of today, this would take SHIELD awhile to crack. Roadblock after roadblock after roadblock. He wondered if it was like this in the old-school Avengers days. 

_ You weren’t even his real son.  _

At the end of the day, he wasn’t, and Morgan was his daughter. That simple. 

“You were distracted,” Bucky said. “You could’ve taken that guy.”

Peter shrugged. “Well, we all have our off days.”

Bucky narrowed his eyes. He was like that—perceptive. Uncanny. In the days after Tony’s death, he’d find Bucky at his side, never speaking, just present to offer a strong hand on Peter’s shoulder when he broke down. He knew what it was to lose. Even if he hadn’t lost Steve in battle, he’d still lost him in the end. 

“You don’t,” Sam said. “You tell us that all the time.”

Peter held out his arms in the universal  _ what the hell _ gesture. “We can’t all be Iron Man.”

“Oh, shut up. Stark had his off days. When Stark was off…”

“Okay, guys.” Peter pulled his mask back on and webbed himself through a hole in the roof. “Take care of that hard drive. I didn’t get this bloody nose for nothing.”

“Parker,” Sam said before he could swing up. “Take care of yourself, okay?”

“When there’s something to take care of, I’ll take care of it.” 

Outside, he swung from building to building, staying away from street cameras. Sam was right—he was off tonight. He was exhausted. Time traveling really took it out of a guy, as did fighting with a Stark. Never ended well for anyone. Tony  _ was  _ an asshole back then… Peter just had strong memories of when he wasn’t.

He crawled through his and MJ’s bedroom window and immediately smelled food cooking. Tacos. As he changed into plaid pajama pants and an old t-shirt, he caught a glimpse of the photo he kept of Tony by his bedside. It was from his sixteenth birthday. Tony had an arm slung around Peter’s shoulder and laughed, frosting smudged over his beard. Mischief tinged Peter’s grin—he’d forgotten how to smile like that. 

_ You weren’t his real son.  _

He walked into the kitchen, where MJ diced tomatoes, and wrapped his arms around her middle. “Hey.” He pressed his lips to her neck. “Remember when we first started dating, the night I was crawling on the ceiling and you threw your book at me? Remember how you said I owed you for, and I quote, scaring the ever-fucking-living shit out of you.”

“I do, but no tomatoes if you don’t get off me,” she said. She made no move to push him away, though, and pushed her neck into his lips.

“I think I can live with that.”

“How was the mission?”

He decided to tell her about the one at the warehouse rather than the time expedition, or whatever the hell it was. “Shit. We found a flash drive, but our guy got away. He seemed to have a grudge against me, but like, who doesn’t at this point? Everyone who has ever committed a petty crime wants a kick at Spider-Man.”

She began to reply, but a knock came at the door. Peter tensed. “Stay in the kitchen,” he muttered. He froze. “Oh, shit, that sounded bad. I didn’t mean, like _stay in the kitchen_ _because you’re a woman_ , but like, I don’t know who’s at the door and I don’t want—”

Another knock came, frantic and loud.

MJ rolled her eyes. “Get the damn door.”

Body tensed, he opened it—but the fight drained from him. Morgan stood outside, hands shoved into her pockets and sunglasses low on her nose. He expected her to open with a wisecrack, but she stepped inside, removing her glasses and keeping her head bowed.

“We need to talk.” She sat in the armchair and crossed her ankles rather than tossing herself onto the couch and sprawling out. When she looked up, her eyes were red and puffy. His chest clenched. At just sixteen, he’d vowed to protect her, to make her happy, to ensure she had a family, no matter what. No matter what, she was his little sister.

“Morgan…” he started. 

“No, I know you’re really bad at keeping your mouth shut, but I really need you to listen to me.” Her voice broke on the last word. “I didn’t mean it. Peter, I swear to God I didn’t mean it. You’re my brother. You’re his son. I know you’re his son. Mom has said, over and over and over, how much he loved you, and I got scared…” She clenched her jaw and shoved the sunglasses onto her face again. “Today blindsided me, and you were prepared. I lashed out.”

Peter reached over and removed the sunglasses. She sniffled. “Hey,” he said. “I’m not mad at you. We all say stupid things.” 

“But that was really,  _ really  _ stupid.” 

“I won’t lie. It hurt.” 

“I wanted it to. I felt… betrayed.” 

“Because he wasn’t who you expected him to be.”

“I thought he was a hero the entire time.”

Peter chuckled. “He was. Just not how you expected. He didn’t have any special DNA, like me or Steve Rogers, didn’t have military training, didn’t have magic. Choice after choice, he became a hero. I try to remember that and be like him. I try to accept his flaws.” His gaze found the picture of Tony he kept on his wall. “I try to be better.”

Morgan wiped her eyes. “I don’t know what I’m supposed to be.”

“You’re sixteen. I barely knew, either. I don’t know now.”

“I’m sure you knew more than me. But it’s whatever.” Morgan snatched her sunglasses back. “I did some reading on Stane this afternoon, but tell me what you know.”

“He had Tony kidnapped in 2008. He betrayed your dad, violated his trust, ripped the arc reactor from his chest when he still needed it to keep him alive. Tony always seemed… afraid, yeah, afraid, when he talked about him. Wary.”

“How much don’t I know?” 

“A lot.” Peter himself didn’t know a lot. He’d known Tony for two years, sure, but Tony had been a pretty closed-off guy. He’d known a lot, more than many, but nothing compared to Pepper, Rhodey, even happy. He’d always wanted more. Got glimpses of it.

Then it was taken away. 

“I remember meeting you for the first time,” Morgan said. “I know I was young, but I remember. Your eyes were puffy and you were wearing a suit, but you brought me a stuffed toy. A penguin. I still have it. I don’t even know when you found time to get it.”

“I didn’t know what to get you,” Peter whispered. 

“I loved it.” She took his hand and finally met his eyes. “I got scared. I freaked. I won’t do it again. I’m still in this, but only if you are. We do this together.”

_ Together.  _ It felt good to hear, even if he couldn’t admit it. “To 2012, then.”

Morgan’s usual grin returned. “Right. Two days from now, 2012. Battle of New York.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who has read so far, and especially to those who have commented or messaged me on tumblr!! The feedback means the world to me :)
> 
> I'm considering updating every day rather than every other day for the next few chapters?? Any thoughts??


	4. new york, 2012

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 2012\. The Battle of New York. When everything goes wrong, Morgan and Peter seek out the one person who can make it right.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Surprise! By popular demand, I'll try to update daily, at least through the weekend. This chapter is a tad longer than the previous ones. Thanks to everyone who has been leaving kudos, subscribing, commenting, or reaching out on tumblr. This story was so fun for me to write and I'm having a blast sharing it :)

“Man, I’m jealous.” Scott nearly bounced on his heels as he prepped Peter and Morgan for time travel. Despite lingering fatigue, Peter couldn’t help but smile. “Battle of New York! That was legendary. That was the thing. Where were you during the Battle of New York?”

Cassie rolled her eyes. “The basement. You wouldn’t let me watch on TV.”

“Because you were four!”

“I watched from our apartment window,” Peter chimed in. “I saw Tony fly by at one point.”

Morgan shot him an impressed glance. “How old were you?”

“Ten. I wanted to be a superhero more than anything. Iron Man was, in fact, my favorite.”

He remembered the Battle of New York. Everyone his age did. It meant aliens were  _ real.  _ May and Ben worried about the implications, but as far as Peter was concerned back then, all the battle meant was that superheroes and aliens existed.  

“We’re timing it so you miss most of the action,” Hope added. “No need to fight the aliens, right? You’re just going to see Tony.”

“No fighting,” Peter repeated. 

“If I didn’t get to fight in New York, you sure don’t. I wanted to fight with Cap for ages.”

Scott groaned. “Are we bringing that up again? I told you—”

“Time travel!” Morgan called before they could start arguing. “We need to go.” 

Peter studied Morgan as they stood on the platform. Her hair was tied back this time, braided with a few strands stuck to her forehead, and she set her jaw stubbornly. She was ready this time—she wasn’t last time, and that was partially his fault. He wouldn’t leave her unprepared this time. Just in case, he had the nanites for his stealth suit, as well as the Rescue armor nanites for Morgan. Couldn’t be too prepared. 

“You ready?” Peter asked. 

Morgan nodded. “You know it.”

The masks covered their faces. Scott waved, and then they were traveling. The quantum realm swirled around them, flashing vibrant colors until the cityscape replaced it. 

Peter squinted, smoke burning his eyes and gravel hard against his knees. Hadn’t the smoke cleared slightly before Tony flew into space? There were alien screeches and human shouts. Chitauri soared above them, around burning skyscrapers and blackened plumes. In an instant, he understood.

They’d miscalculated.

They’d landed in the middle of the Battle of New York.

Morgan stood and looked to the sky, face painted with horror. She’d never seen war. She’d never seen a true battle because of what Tony did in 2023. In Peter’s time, Tony eased him in—first the airport, then Titan, before he finally fought amongst the other Avengers. He’d never been the same afterwards. The fight against Thanos made the airport seem like a skirmish between friends in a parking lot. War changed someone, and as many times Tony said they weren’t soldiers, Peter never believed him.

“Holy shit.” Peter craned his neck to watch the Chitauri slaughter and ravage and bare their teeth. He never realized how  _ awful  _ the battle had been. A roar pierced the air, and he saw the Hulk scaling a building, Clint Barton atop a building aiming arrows. 

Morgan exhaled. “This was bad.” 

“Yeah. Okay, so you can stay here, but I have to do something. This is before your dad… before he saves the day, you’ll want to watch the wormhole for that, so be careful, but I’m going to do what I can, take down some Chitauri.” He put on Tony’s sunglasses, and nanites spread over his body to form the stealth suit. He tossed Morgan a bracelet. “Tap it.” 

She did. The Rescue armor spread over her body, purple and shining without too obviously belonging to Tony. Morgan gasped and looked at her hands. The suit moved with her like liquid metal, and with her hair tied back, she resembled Pepper on the battlefield twelve years ago. Morgan was equal parts Potts and Stark, and it showed. 

“Do not fight,” he said. “Do you understand? It’s for protection.” 

She flexed her hands again. “I am so sorry, I want to listen to you, but this armor is incredible and the blasters are insane, so I am totally going to kick some alien ass in the past.” 

“Morgan—” 

“Sorry, Peter!” She lifted off the ground, the repulsors unsteady under her feet, and raised her arm. The sleek silver mask covered her face. She soared toward a Chitauri, and with a forward roll through the sky, slammed her legs into its neck—maybe its back? She whooped and flew higher, toward more aliens.

Peter’s jaw dropped. 

Tony would come back from the dead and kill him. He’d taken Morgan to the past, where she was currently  _ fighting in the battle of New York.  _

He went to call her, but behind him, something snarled. Peter turned. A group of Chitauri sprinted at him. Peter webbed himself up and slung onto the alley wall, then swung forward  _ hard _ and knocked them on their asses. He webbed them to the ground, then skittered higher up the wall. Chitauri overran the streets, tearing apart cars and throwing them with reckless abandon, and long metal beasts crawled through the skies, sunlight glinting off their exteriors. He could do a lot of good here, maybe even save some lives. 

“Hey, aliens!” Peter shouted. A group of them turned to him. He swung from building to building as the Chitauri chased him; he didn’t quite know where he was leading them, but he was taking them somewhere, and he needed to keep Morgan in sight, and—

A claw swiped through his web. 

He tumbled down, down,  _ down _ ; he put his hands out and landed with a  _ THUD!  _ against the scorched and bloodied pavement. Something cracked. A bone, maybe, something in his hand. That would heal. There was no pain, though, as he raised his left hand. 

Shattered pieces of the device—the device that enabled him to get _ back to 2035 _ —hung from his hand. Broken. It was broken. 

“Shit,” he muttered. “Shit, shit,  _ shit! _ ” 

A Chitauri leapt atop him. No time to be upset. He flipped it onto his back, stole the alien’s knife, then jammed the blade into his gut. Three more attacked. He raised his fists, but suddenly, three blasts of blue light flashed. The Chitauri howled and writhed on the ground. 

“Hey, Spandex!” a familiar voice called. 

Peter froze. Iron Man descended from the sky, landing with his left knee and hand touching the ground. He stood and fired two blasts to the right at two Chitauri, then flipped up the face mask. Peter’s eyes filled with tears. Tony’s face was bruised and battered, his eyes bright. An invincible glow surrounded him—he seemed excited, almost, to be among the action. No anxiety. No PTSD. No haunted gaze toward the sky. 

He hadn’t flown the nuke into space yet. 

“I don’t remember seeing you on the roster,” Tony said. “Are you on our side?” 

A Chitauri lunged at Tony. Peter webbed it to the wall without looking, unable to tear his gaze from Tony. 

Tony snapped twice. “Hello? Earth to Spandex?” 

“Oh, yeah, yeah, I’m on your side,” Peter said. “Definitely. Always on your side.” 

“Okay, kinda weird, but I won’t judge. There’s a chick flying around in armor that looks like mine. Know anything about that?” 

Peter swallowed hard. “She’s, uh, also on our side.” 

“Stark!” Steve Rogers’ voice came through Tony’s comm. “We need you in the skies.”

“For sure, Stark.” Natasha Romanoff. Even though he’d never fought alongside her, he’d read her mission logs, watched videos of her fights—all legendary. “Big storm coming.” 

“You hear that? No please, no thank you.” Tony grinned at Peter before flipping his face mask down and blasting off. “See you out there, Spandex.”

“Mr. Stark!” Peter called. Tony looked over his shoulder at him. “You’re going to make it through this battle. Even if it doesn’t seem like it, you’ll make it through. You’ll be okay.” 

“Huh,” Tony said. “Odd sentiment, but I appreciate it.” 

He soared off. Peter wondered what it would feel like to follow, to fight at Tony’s side, to perhaps stay with him, even. Instead of thinking of that, though, he looked toward the wormhole, toward the aliens flooding the sky. It wouldn’t be long, now. 

A quieter set of repulsors fired behind him. “Damn, that was fun,” Morgan said. 

She strode to his side, mask down and hair plastered to her face. The rest of her armor faded back into the bracelet. Her voice was off—he couldn’t tell how. Not right now. In a few seconds, Tony would be flying a nuclear bomb into space. He would be changed. Permanently. 

“Watch him,” Peter whispered. “This is your dad, Morgan. This is who he was.” 

Tony, just streak of red and gold, whooshed vertically through the sky, the nuclear bomb hefted onto his back. Beside him, Morgan gasped. Tony disappeared into the wormhole. The tears Peter withhold finally fell. How had anyone ever believed Tony to be selfish or narcissistic? How had anyone been surprised when he picked up the gauntlet and used it?

“Oh, God,” Morgan whispered. 

Tony fell from the wormhole as it closed. Morgan clutched Peter as they watched his descent. Tony’s limbs were limp; his head lolled back. Peter couldn’t look away. Would he ever live up to what Tony needed him to be? People called him the next Iron Man, but truth be told, he wasn’t focused enough on being a superhero, wasn’t strong enough to save the world like Tony Stark did over and over.

“Why isn’t he stopping?” Morgan asked. 

“Don’t worry,” Peter said. “It’ll be okay, I promise.”

The Hulk leapt from the ground and snatched Tony from the air, cradling him to his giant chest. Morgan slumped against Peter, relieved. 

Peter exhaled. “And that’s that.”  _ Now  _ they had things to worry about, like his broken device and getting home. He glanced at Morgan. His head spun.

And, apparently, he also had to worry about an injury.

“Morgan, you’re hurt,” he said.

“Am not.” She glanced down at her torso and the blood blossoming under her white t-shirt. “Okay, maybe I am.” 

“Okay, okay, stay calm.”

“I am calm.”

“I’m talking to myself. Your mom will  _ kill  _ me, she’s gonna…” He took in Morgan’s fluttering eyes and the growing bloodstain. “Okay, Spider-Man, let’s go.” He patched up the wound—a long, deep slash—with nanotech. “That will hold until we get help. How did this happen? You had the armor on. I saw you fighting.”

“Uh, yeah. I took it off.”

“You did  _ what _ ?”

“A Chitauri was coming straight for a kid. I dissolved the armor to shield him before I put it back on. I got… sliced, though. I put the armor right back on, Peter, I swear.”

“I know, I know. Listen. Give me your quantum device. I’ll head back and get help.”

“Where’s yours?”

“It broke. Hand it over, I’m serious.”

She held up her mangled quantum device, eyes wide. “Mine too. Crushed.” 

Peter’s stomach turned. The stench of blood and death became tangible; the whine of sirens and the Chitauri’s dying moans pierced his ears. He couldn’t focus on that. Not now. Not with Morgan hurt and their devices broken. 

“Well, the priority is getting you medical attention,” he said.

She scoffed. “We can do that when we’re in our time.”

“You’ll bleed out.”

“Well, we can’t exactly stroll into any hospital. We’re, quite literally, not from here.” She grimaced and pressed her hand to her side.

“I know, I’m thinking.” Battlefield medicine, he could manage. Time travel… he didn’t know enough about it to ensure they wouldn’t be spliced or end up in the wrong year. They needed a professional. Someone well-versed in quantum mechanics.  

“I have an idea,” Morgan said. “I don’t know how much you’re going to like it.”

“I bet I have the same one.” 

“Dad,” Morgan said, at the time Peter said, “Tony.” They stared at each other, smoke rising and dust settling around them. 

“It’s a bad idea,” Peter said. Yet… it was good. Irresistible. Tony made time travel possible. Tony could fix Morgan’s wound. Tony could help. Whenever there was trouble in Peter’s life, Tony helped, and he was here. “It’s a bad idea, Morgan.”

“I know, but we just have to find a way to send a distress signal,” she said. “I think it should go to Dr. Strange. He can…” She swallowed hard. “He can erase Dad’s memory and bring new tech from Hope and Scott. They said four trips, but I bet there are extra particles to get him to us if we provide our own. Cassie has been in the workshop with me recently.”

“Shit, Morgan…” Peter massaged his temple, then exhaled. “Okay. We’re doing this, but we can’t forget the rules. We can’t rely on Strange to fix everything. Tony can’t know the full extent of what happened.”

“I know.” 

“He really can’t, I mean, the entire  _ universe _ —”

“Peter.” She grabbed his wrist. “I  _ know _ . I’m trying not to make a big deal of it, but if I don’t get some help and pain meds, I will bleed out just to spite you.”

“You’re good to travel?”

“Yeah.” Her pained grimace turned to a grin. “Let’s go find our dad.”

 

#

 

Morgan still couldn’t believe she wasn’t dreaming.

Sure, there was the less-than-convenient gash in her side that ached more and more with each passing moment—not that she could tell an already-panicking Peter—but she was in her dad’s workshop.  _ Her  _ workshop. The structure looked almost identical to what she’d done with the place in 2035, down to Dum-E in the corner and ratty couch shoved against the wall for power naps—the one she currently sprawled on. The lab was nowhere near finished, but it was as close to home as this era could give, complete with Peter pacing in his stealth suit. 

“Peter, calm down,” she said. 

“I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I  _ am  _ calm. Or at least this is as calm as I’m going to get. You’re injured, we’re stuck in the past. We need a strategy.” 

“Okay, but admit—this is kinda fun.”

Peter shrugged. “Kinda.” 

“And I bet you have a strategy.”

“I think I do.” 

“Want to share?” 

“As soon as Tony walks through the door, we tell him the truth of why we’re here.”

Morgan propped herself up on her elbow. “We’re going to do  _ what _ ?”

“We’ll tell him the truth.”

“He’ll…”

“He’ll help us.” Peter nodded confidently. “I know Tony Stark. He will help us.”

Morgan sank onto the couch again, a pain in her stomach that had nothing to do with the gash. Of course Peter knew, had that blatant certainty. She tried not to be jealous, but it was hard knowing he had the time she so desperately wanted. She couldn’t resent him, not really, but she didn’t know who to resent. 

Peter stopped in front of her. “Are you…” He trailed off as the door opened. 

Her dad walked into the lab, body battered and arc reactor glowing under his Black Sabbath t-shirt. Tony glanced from Morgan to Peter and back again. 

“Spandex,” her dad said, pointing at Tony. “And I bet the girl here is the armor copycat.”

Morgan stumbled to her feet. Tony’s brow wrinkled as she winced. 

“Did you break into my lab and bleed on my couch?” he asked.

“No.” Morgan glanced at the cushion and smudged red stain. “Yes.” 

Her dad sighed. “Look, I had one hell of a day. I fought aliens, I flew a nuclear bomb into space, I had a fucking heart attack that was fixed by a Norse god tapping his hammer against my chest—not a euphemism, hand to God—and I think the schwarma gave me heartburn. Lots of heart problems. I don’t know what you two want, but I have Earth’s mightiest hero on speed dial, so you shouldn’t—”

_ He will help us.  _

“I’m your daughter,” Morgan blurted. 

“Oh, Christ on a cracker. Today? Really?” Tony pressed his hand to his forehead. “Christ, Happy warned me this could happen. Okay, who’s your mom? Has she gone to the press?” He whirled on Peter. “Are you my kid, too? Brother or something?”

Morgan began to answer yes, but Peter said, “No. I’m not.”

“Okay, then, only one. Like I asked, who’s your mom?”

She held her dad’s gaze. “Pepper. Pepper Pots is my mom.”

Tony paled. “You’re what, sixteen, seventeen? I don’t remember a lot, kid, but I think I would remember getting Pepper pregnant.” 

“You, uh, didn’t.” Peter shifted into Spider-Man mode. “Not yet, at least. We’re from the future. We came back to… to observe this battle. We had these devices to time travel and communicate with people in our year, but they broke when we started fighting.”

“That’s flimsy tech,” Tony said. 

“You invented it.”

“Oh, shit. Sorry.”

“We need to get back to our time,” Morgan said. Her dad’s eyes narrowed as she spoke. She was his  _ daughter _ , and he knew that now. What did he think of her? “And I’d really appreciate if someone could, like, stitch my skin back together.”

Peter pinched the bridge of his nose. “Yeah, that would be great for my stress levels.” 

“This is great and all, but how can I trust you?” Tony said. “You could be any random girl with dark eyes claiming to be my daughter.” 

Morgan reached into her pocket and wrapped her hand around the necklace her mom gave her for her birthday. She shoved it at her dad. He held the glass orb in his calloused hand, his expression complicated. 

“In 2013, surgeons will pull metal shards like these out of your chest so you don’t have to use the arc reactor,” Morgan said. “You’ll make a necklace for Pepper, and when I’m two months old, you’ll make one for me. Look at the glass work. It’s obviously yours.” 

“Quite so.” Her dad handed her the necklace, eyes gentler. He turned to Peter. “And you? You have proof that you’re legit?” 

“I know the basics of how you invented time travel, which should be proof enough, since I’m not smart enough to do that,” Peter said. “I just need you to add the finer details. We need to recreate Pym particles. We won’t use them to travel because frankly, I don’t trust any of us enough with the process to use them for that, but they should work to send a message.”

“Why can’t we find Hank Pym and ask him nicely?” Morgan asked. 

“Because at the moment, Hank Pym hates Starks, and Tony here hasn’t done much yet in his eyes to change his mind. We make our own version for communication only and wait for a delivery of the real thing.”

Tony arched an eyebrow. “Thanks for that. Let’s get to work.” 

Peter handed Morgan his broken device. “Can you repair the mechanics of both? Or maybe build something new?”

“What if I want to work on the Pym particles?” Morgan said.

He gritted his teeth. “Stop being difficult. I’m not asking as your brother or friend. As soon as those devices broke, this became an Avengers mission, and as the leader of the Avengers—”

“ _ You’re  _ Avengers?” Tony interrupted. “My daughter is an Avenger?”

“She’s not,” Peter said. He turned back to Morgan. “Devices. Please.” 

Morgan rolled her eyes. “Fine.” 

“Come on…” Tony trailed off. “I don’t know your names.”

“Peter,” he said quietly.

She met her dad’s eye.  _ Be strong _ , she thought.  _ Be your father’s daughter.  _ “I’m Morgan.” 

“Peter and Morgan.” He nodded. She wished for more of a reaction. “With me, Peter.”

She put on goggles and began repairing the mechanical parts of the devices. With her full attention, she could’ve done it in an hour or two, but her gaze kept straying to Peter and her dad. Her chest clenched. As they worked, their heads were bowed together; even though they didn’t know each other, tools and conversation flowed between them easily. At some point, her dad put on AC/DC and bobbed his head to  _ Back in Black  _ as he worked. Was this what she could’ve had? Time in the lab with Peter and her dad? Would Peter smile more? Would she know her dad’s favorite songs and favorite foods?

After a few hours, Peter’s eyes fluttered as he worked. “Take a break, Peter,” she called. 

He frowned at her. “No.”

“You’re going to pass out.”

“Hey, nobody’s passing out in my lab,” Tony said. He pointed to the couch in the corner. “Nap for a few. I’ll wake you up. We should be close, if everything works—which it will.”

Without further protest, Peter stumbled to the couch and collapsed facedown. Soon enough, his chest moved up and down steadily, and he pulled his knees to his chest. He  _ really  _ must have felt shitty. She turned back to their devices. Almost ready. Then he could truly rest. 

“That’s good work.”

Morgan lifted her head. Her dad stood in front of her workbench, elbows resting on the surface and nose wrinkled—just like she wrinkled hers. She couldn’t  _ believe  _ herself. She’d spent years imagining what it would be to meet her dad, to have time to talk to him, but faced with reality, she drew a blank. Even if they were breaking most of them, rules existed. He couldn’t know everything, especially about how she came to be

“You hear me?” he repeated. “Good work, really.”

“I know it is,” she said. 

“Cool devices.” He reached forward. She swatted his hand away. “Hey!” 

“You can’t know too much about these.”

“But Pym particles are okay?”

“Desperate times.”

He studied her, bruised eyes narrowed. Then, he clapped his hands. “Tell me about yourself. Hobbies? What do you like to eat?”

She smiled to herself. “I would do anything for a cheeseburger.”

“You probably have expensive taste.” 

“Nah, a Big Mac is just fine.”

“What about Whoppers?” 

“Better than Big Macs.”

He laughed—it dissolved into a giggle. The sound was breathier, softer than she anticipated; she liked how his entire face crinkled. “Maybe you are my daughter.”

_ I am.  _ Her lower lip trembled. Yes. She could’ve had this. The universe  _ stole  _ this. She didn’t want the big moments, she didn’t want showy moments with Tony Stark in the press or the notoriety. She wanted quiet dinners and McDonald’s trips; she wanted to work with him in the lab and be grossed out when her parents kissed. 

“I never stitched up your cut,” Tony suddenly said. 

Her pulse quickened. “I, uh, don’t like needles.”

“Too bad. Up you go.” He patted a chair, then busied himself gathering medical supplies. 

Morgan sat, grimacing, and lifted up her shirt. She winced. Maybe Peter had a point. The wound looked… bad, with blood crusted all over her stomach. She peeled away the nanotech, tearing little flecks of skin, too. Her dad whistled as he returned with disinfectant, swabs, bandages, and other miscellaneous items. 

“Wow, that’s quite the gash,” he said. “This will sting.”

She scoffed. “It can’t be that—” She gasped as a cloth soaked in disinfectant touched her stomach.  _ That  _ stung like a motherfucker. Her skin burned and hissed as Tony gently moved the cloth over her wound. 

“That’s what I said at first.” He set a bloodstained cloth aside and went in with a fresh one. “But fighting can never be all fun, right? Yeah, this really does need stitches.”

“Does it?” She couldn’t keep the tremor from her voice. 

“Yeah, kid, it does. Buck up. You could be dead.” 

He threaded a needle. It glinted in the light. In a few moments that would be moving  _ through her skin.  _ In and out, in and out, the thread holding her together. 

“We can’t…” she managed.

“Alright, it’s clean. Ready for this?”

“No.”

“Sit tight, this will be fine. You gotta relax.”

Morgan did not relax. 

“Okay, fine. We’ll just have a little chat, then.” Tony bent over her stomach, needle in hand. “I never used to be able to do this, but after Afghanistan and Justin Hammer and everything I figured, why not? I practiced on fruit, oranges and grapefruit, mostly.”

“I am not a  _ grapefruit _ ,” she said through clenched teeth. 

“Nope. Real, live human with my DNA.” Tony jerked his head toward Peter. “What’s his deal? Why won’t he tell me who he really is? He isn’t really my kid, right?” 

“Not biologically. You, um, mentor him in the beginning, when he’s fourteen. But you two get closer. You care for him. You protect him. He loves you like a dad. He  _ knows _ you.” 

“You like him? Know him?”

“I love him.” A small smile came to her face as she watched Peter sleep. “He’s the best big brother I could ask for. I know a lot about him, but not everything.” 

“Good, good.” Tony tied off the stitches. “All done.”

“That’s it?”

“That’s it. You’re good.” He fiddled with his hands, then met Morgan’s eye again. “What about me and you?”

“Me and you?”

“Yeah, you don’t seem to know me too well. What’s up with that?”

She pulled her shirt down to cover the wound. “We, uh… I don’t know you because…”

“God, this is why kids terrify me. I knew I’d be just like my goddamn father. I knew I wouldn’t be able to do this.” He ran his hand through his hair. “I abandon you, don’t I?”

“No. No! You never would. You would never abandon me.”

“Then why don’t you know me? Why not, Morgan?” 

“You would  _ never  _ abandon me. Never. Not if you could’ve help it.”

“Where am I in the future? Why am I not in your life?”

On the couch, Peter groaned. Morgan hopped off the chair as Peter stumbled to his feet, blinking as he fully woke. 

“Morgan—” her dad began.

She shook her head. “Let’s get back to work.”

 

#

 

Four hours later, they were stuck. 

“I don’t get what makes the particles tick,” her dad said. “And I don’t understand how to push the message through time rather than pushing time through it.”  
“I don’t either.” Peter laid his head on the table. “I’m not good at quantum mechanics.” He held up one finger. “Not yet, at least.”

“Okay, this has to be more simple than we’re making it,” Morgan said. “Yeah, we gotta hook up the particles and our semi-fixed devices to something with a keyboard, maybe your phone, Peter, so to make our pseudo-particles work for us, why don’t we…” She grabbed two test tubes of different liquids and poured them together. Peter and her dad both shouted, but the new vial glowed red. She smirked, arching an eyebrow as they both gaped at her. “What? A risk or two never hurts. Sometimes you gotta walk—”

“Before you can run,” Tony finished. “Wow. I must tell you that a lot.” 

She nodded tightly. “Let’s finish this.”

With Black Sabbath blaring in the background, they launched into a flurry of work, tools traded between hands and words flying. As Peter worked on a channel to allow the particles to access his phone, Morgan perfected the particles; at some point, Tony sat back and watched, wearing a proud expression. Morgan couldn’t help the smile that came to her face.  _ Yeah,  _ she thought.  _ I’m damn good at this.  _

“Done,” Peter said after two hours, stepping away from the table.

“Send your message,” Tony said. 

Morgan peered over Peter’s shoulder as he sent the message.  _ Stuck in 2012 with Morgan Stark _ , Peter typed.  _ About thirteen hours after the Battle of New York. In Stark Towers, Tony Stark’s workshop. Need two devices to bring us home. Also need you to wipe Tony’s memory.  _ He gazed at the message with a sorrowful gaze, then sent it. 

“What now?” Tony asked. 

Morgan began to reply, but gold sparked in the center of the workshop. Strange stepped through the portal, his cloak collar popped to frame the judgemental set of his jaw. Peter ran his hand through his hair, looking away. 

“Look what you got yourself into,” Strange said. “Playtime is over.” He flashed the device on his scarred left hand and the Pym particles clutched in his right. He tossed the particles to Morgan, and she installed them in hers and Peter’s repaired devices. Relief and regret washed through her. On one hand, she was going home, but on the other… she was leaving her dad. 

“Wow, what are you?” Tony snorted. “Did you bring me some balloon animals?” 

Strange’s composed face cracked for a second. He cleared his throat, though, and he was poised again. “I did not. I did, however, come to fix the mess your children made.”

“You’re a wizard?”

“Master of the Mystic Arts. I protect your reality.”

“I protect your reality!” Tony mocked. Morgan chuckled. “Compensating for something?”

“I forgot how insufferable you were.”

“Good, my reputation precedes me.”

“The worst part about this is that you  _ aren’t insufferable _ .” Strange sighed, the sound of a long-suffering man. “Alright, time to fix this.”

“Oh.” Her dad’s eyes were sad. “You won’t let me remember any of this, will you? You brought him here to erase my memory.”

“No,” Morgan whispered.

“You don’t have to lie. I understand. Just… hang on, let me… Christ, let me look at you. Just for a moment.” He put his hands on either side of Morgan’s face, touch firm but gently. His eyes flicked from her wavy hair to her high forehead, from her upturned nose to her stocky frame, from her defiant chin to her dark eyes—eyes identical to his. He nodded without speaking, then moved away, toward Peter. 

“You,” he said. “What’s the first thing you say to me?”

Peter’s face crumpled before his mask slipped back into place. “I’m… Mr. Stark, I’m not your son. Not biologically. It’s okay.” 

Morgan’s face burned. She looked at the floor, unable to meet Peter’s eyes. Her dad, though, gripped Peter’s shoulder, gaze serious. 

“I can tell you were pretty damn important to me. What did you say to me, kid?” 

“I walk into our apartment. I lived there with my aunt. May.” Peter swallows hard, tears brimming in his eyes. “I tell her that there’s a crazy car parked outside. I ask you what you’re doing at my apartment, then I introduce myself.” 

Tony nodded. “I’ll hang onto that.”

“Time’s up,” Strange said. “I need to do this.”

“Hit me with your best, wizard,” her dad said. 

Morgan turned away, unable to watch; Peter did the same. She gripped his hand in hers as white light flashed. Peter stared at the ceiling, a single tear rolling from his left eye. When the light faded, they turned. Tony laid on the floor, Strange standing over him. 

“We should go,” he said flatly.

“Wait.” Peter lifted Tony into his arms, then carried him to the couch. After setting him down, he smoothed down Tony’s hair, then knelt to kiss his forehead. He stood, shoulders stiff, and rejoined Morgan and Strange. Morgan wanted to say something. Anything.

She didn’t have the words. 

“Ready,” Strange said.

“Ready,” Peter repeated.

“Ready,” Morgan confirmed.

Into the quantum realm. 

Out inside the sanctum. 

God, for a moment there, she thought she’d be forced to return to 2035 the long way around. Relief washed through her. Yet under Strange’s gaze, she felt like she was seven years old again and had just broken into the workshop without her mom’s permission. 

“What?” she snapped. 

“What were you two  _ thinking _ ?” Strange asked. “You, you’re a Stark, so I know you’re prone to be… rash, but you!” He pointed at Peter. “You should know better. Time travel?”

“So you actually want to speak to me, now?” Peter said.

Morgan tilted her chin up. “We wanted to see him.”

Strange matched her posture. “You  _ will  _ see him again, like I said, in time.”

“How much time?” Peter said. 

“You claim to be a leader, but you’re still a child. You have some growing up to do, Parker. If you make other trips, leave me out of it.” Strange’s cloak billowed behind him as he walked up the stairs, toward the storm clouds, his head bowed. Peter stepped to follow, but Morgan moved her arm in front of him. 

“Let him go,” she said. 

Peter looked young, younger than he had the right to look. It scared her. Terribly. Even back when he was eighteen, he didn’t seem young. Not like this. Not like when he watched Strange wiping Tony’s memory. 

“Are you okay?” Morgan asked. 

“I’m…” Peter turned to her. His smile was forced. 

“We don’t have to keep doing this.” Morgan winced as he glanced away. How did she tell him that from her perspective, he’d left a part of himself in the past on both trips? He’d always taken care of her, not the other way around. “You know, if this is hurting you, or the memories…” 

“I’m good, Morgan. I’m good. Same time, day after tomorrow?” 

_ No _ , she wanted to say.  _ You’re not good.  _

Instead, she said, “I’ll see you then.”

 

#

 

Peter showered when he got home, as if he could wash the memories away. 

Time travel was a  _ bastard.  _

He could almost pretend that he was sixteen again, that a message from Tony would be waiting for him, that he could go to the lab and Tony would know him. He could almost pretend he was seventeen, curled on the shower floor sobbing one night, on the rooftop the next. But no. He was twenty-eight, and people relied on him. He couldn’t have a breakdown. 

He could have a quiet night, though, without taking calls from any Avengers. 

Yet when he went into the living room, where MJ was watching  _ Jeopardy  _ and doing a crossword puzzle, his phone was vibrating. He ignored it, walking into the kitchen to make PB&J or get an entire bottle of whiskey to drink—he’d device when he got there. To MJ’s credit, she didn’t ask what had happened. She never did. He always told her, sooner or later. 

“Your phone keeps ringing,” she called. 

“Throw it out the window,” he said. “I’ll dig into the inheritance and buy another.” It was what Tony would have wanted. He  _ wouldn’t  _ have approved of the whiskey, though, so PB&J it was. He slathered a slice of white bread with Jiffy, then added grape jelly. 

MJ whistled. “Think fast.”

Goddammit. She’d thrown his phone. He caught it with one hand and answered the FaceTime call. Sam Wilson’s face appeared on his screen. 

“You made your girlfriend answer, man?” Sam said. “Say hi to Bucky.” He turned the camera to show Bucky sprawled face-down on the other hotel bed. “Rough day, but we cracked the flash drive. We have some info on who wants that tech.”

Peter grinned. Finally, some good news. “Great, who is it?” 

“It’s, uh…” 

“Come on, Sam, spit it out. We can nail this son of a bitch.” 

“You know him. Adrian Toomes.” 

Peter’s smile fell. He sat down—hard—on the floor and held his hand to his forehead. His heart pounded so loud that he could barely hear Sam speaking. Toomes. The  _ Vulture.  _ His first villain, his first fight, the first man who almost killed him. He knew he was Spider-Man. He knew MJ. “I thought he was…”

“We’re still looking for details.” 

“Toomes was…” 

“You okay, Spidey?” Sam’s voice was gentle. 

“I’ll be fine. Thanks.” He hung up the phone. Only then did he notice MJ was sitting on the floor next to him. She took his hand. 

“You’re not okay,” she whispered. 

“I’m in over my head, MJ, but I just have to make it work, I have to push harder, I have to make it all work out the way it needs to, and then everything will be right.” He blinked back tears. “Time travel is a bitch. Being a superhero is a bitch.”

She laid her head on his shoulder. “I wish you could tell me.”

“Give me some time.”

She squeezed his hand.  _ Toomes.  _ If it truly was Toomes, he’d be coming for revenge. He’d target Morgan, Pepper,  _ MJ.  _ He really needed to withdraw from the time travel mission and focus, but he couldn’t do that to Morgan. Not now. He could handle both. 

He could handle everything. 

 

#

 

Pepper ate dinner alone. 

When Morgan got home, she went straight to the workshop with barely a word. She seemed upset. Pepper didn’t want to bother her, so she baked a pizza and ate most of it, then poured a glass of wine and took it to the couch. After, she poured a second. By the third, Rhodey was in her living room, a sympathetic smile on his face. She didn’t have to ask. He’d let himself up, as he did sometimes. 

“One of those nights?” he asked. 

“He feels more gone some days than others,” Pepper said. “Is that weird?”

“No.” Rhodey sat next to her on the couch, grunting as he settled his legs into place. He still wore the braces Tony made for him, even if they weren’t entirely functional. “Some days, I forget that he’s gone. I go to call him or text him something funny, then I remember.”

“I don’t sleep in the middle of the bed some nights.” She blinked back tears. “It’s been twelve years. We should be better.”

“No. We lost him traumatically. He died in a completely unprecedented way. We’re doing just fine, Pepper. We struggle, yeah, but we’re getting along.”

She sniffled into her wine. “Did you come here for a pity party?”

“I wish. You know the people who wanted Stark tech?” 

“Yeah.”

“Sam and Bucky have been doing their thing. They found a flash drive and got into it. Sam told Spidey some of it, but you know how he can get… touchy, when it comes to Tony.”

“Morgan’s been  _ touchy _ lately, too.”

“I know. When we, uh, opened up that flash drive, though, we… we found some things.” He closed his eyes and rubbed the back of his neck. “The Vulture is looking for Stark Tech.”

“His first big one.”

“Exactly. But Justin Hammer is also looking. An associate of Adrian Killian’s, too.”

Pepper’s chest tightened. God, some of the people who’d hated her husband most. What did they intend to do? Sell the tech? Destroy his legacy? “Peter needs to know.”

“I know. You’re right, though. He and Morgan have been weirder than usual about Tony.”

“I’ll find out what’s going on, but Rhodey, you have to tell him. He’s going to fight this, and he needs to know everything. I know this was his mantra back in the day, but he isn’t a child. Not anymore.” 

“Let Buck and Sam get ahead of this. I'll brief Scott and Hope tonight. I’ll even get Nebula and Carol from space if I need to. We’ll figure this out.” Rhodey nodded, self-assured. “You and Morgan will be safe.”

Rhodey stayed for another few minutes, then left with a promise to keep her updated. As soon as the elevator doors closed behind him, she rested her head in her hands. When had she lost control of her life? When had she become so desperate for Tony to return to her life? She’d managed as Morgan grew up, but they were in uncharted territory. Morgan was sixteen. She was beginning to have questions—questions Pepper didn’t want to answer, stories she didn’t see fit to tell. Morgan didn’t need to know her father was pleased when people died or built weapons for the sole purpose of killing. That Tony Stark wasn’t her husband. 

With a sigh, she stood and got on the elevator to go to the workshop. Maybe she could talk to Morgan tonight, clear some things up. When she arrived downstairs, though, she was greeted with silence. Morgan wasn’t at any of the benches; wasn’t by the suits. Instead, she curled up on the couch, chest moving up and down steadily. 

Still, Pepper pressed her fingers to Morgan’s wrist, then exhaled. 

Just sleeping.

Pepper laid a blanket over her sleeping daughter, turned out the lights in the workshop, and went upstairs to her empty bed. 

 


	5. queens, 2017

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Time traveling to 2017 Queen brings up difficult memories for Peter. Morgan tries her best to help.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a warning -- the end of this chapter deals with past suicidal thoughts, so if that's a trigger for you, please stay safe and take care with this chapter. If you want a more detailed description, I'll write one in the end notes :)

“You look awful,” Morgan said. 

Peter looked over his full coffee mug at Morgan, then leaned back in his seat at Scott and Hope’s kitchen table. At least Scott made them pancakes for a pre-time travel meal. He hadn’t slept for  _ shit _ last night, not while knowing that the Vulture was out there  _ and  _ where the quantum realm would take him. 

Summer 2017. 

An abandoned gym in Queens. 

His own history, when he’d known Tony for just over a year. 

“Hey.” Morgan poked his arm with her syrup-sticky fork. “Why are we going to summer 2017? There was nothing super insane.” 

“Between the Accords and Thanos, that was when your dad and I became close. I was feeling out my place as Spider-Man. There were some bumps in the road, but there was one night… a mission went wrong, really wrong, and he wouldn’t tell me what happened.”

“You don’t remember?”

Peter shook his head. “I blacked out, then woke up in MedBay. Tony never told me what happened.” Tony never told him a lot of things, but that night… that night changed things. Tony looked at him differently after that. He was gentler around Peter, slinging an arm around his shoulder, ruffling his hair, buying his favorite foods. 

Peter needed to know what happened. 

They finished their pancakes, then joined Scott, Hope, and Cassie in the backyard. Scott grinned and pointed finger guns at them.

“What’s the number one time travel rule for today, kids?” Hope said.

“Don’t break our devices,” Morgan said.

“Don’t lose the particles,” Peter added.

Hope clicked her tongue. “Bingo!” 

“Hey.” Scott pulled Peter aside as Hope and Cassie double-checked Morgan’s quantum suit. “I don’t know if this is my place or not, but you’re good to do this, right?” 

Peter swallowed hard. “Oh, yeah, yeah, I’m good. Super good. But, uh, have you and Hope been called in on the Stark tech situation? I’m scared it’s gonna escalate to Morgan and Pepper being in danger.”  _ And MJ _ , he added silently. Because the Vulture was involved. 

“Hey, you’re changing the topic. That’s not allowed.”

“It is. When I get back, we need to do some work, we need to get on the same page.” 

Scott’s eyes softened. “Okay, Spidey. Let’s get you into the quantum realm. Hope and I can cook for everyone tonight. Well, I’ll cook. Not letting Hope near the kitchen. What do you say? Bring your girlfriend, I’ll whip out my magic tricks, we have a good night?”

Peter shrugged. “Let’s see how this goes. If it’s anything like last time…”

“You never told us exactly what happened  _ last time _ . Strange won’t, either.” 

“We got back. That’s all that mattered.” 

He didn’t need to split hairs. Strange had saved them, and that was that. It wasn’t important that Strange, even after twelve years, was still cold and formal toward him—despite becoming close with every other Avengers. May told him not to assume it was personal. Peter assumed nothing—he knew. Strange didn’t like him. Maybe he resented him for coming to Titan, or not pulling harder to get the gauntlet off, or, or, or. There were thousands of reasons. Peter didn’t care, as he told May and MJ time after time.

He stepped on the platform with Morgan. She met his eye. Nodded once, assured. 

The masks covered their face. 

“Safe travels!” Cassie called. 

They plunged into the quantum realm and arrived in 2017, darkness shrouding them. Morgan’s mask faded away, half her face still obscured in shadow. She reached to remove the quantum suit, but Peter caught her hand. 

“Keep it on this time,” he said.

She scanned their surroundings. “What is this place?”

Peter exhaled. _A familiar one._ He’d thought of this night often in the past twelve years. They stood in an abandoned gymnasium with cobwebbed windows, dusty rafters, and a mold-coated floor; water rippled in a filthy Olympic-sized pool before them. “Thirteen years or so ago, on patrol—that’s what I called it back then—I saw a man transporting glowing weapons. Tony and I were working on it together. I derailed the truck, and Tony checked to make sure the weapons weren’t biological. Rhodey joined us at that point. I followed the criminal here. I remember being hit on the head, and then nothing. I don’t even know what happened to the criminal. Tony never caught him.”

Morgan checked the time. “When should we expect you?” 

“Soon. There’s a loft we can watch from.”

Morgan shrank down in the suit and hopped onto Peter’s shoulder; he climbed the walls until he could crouch in a wooden loft above the pool. After a moment, she returned to full size, studying Peter with a curious gaze.

“You remember nothing?” she asked. 

“ _ Almost _ nothing. I came to for… a moment.”

“What did you see?”

He swallowed hard. It was only a flash of a memory, really—Tony peering down at him, eyes blotchy, tears clinging to his eyelashes and beard. It could’ve happened anywhere, or it could’ve happened in his dreams, but he recalled water burning in his throat as he vomited, just barely. He couldn’t tell Morgan they traveled here because of something he could hardly remember, not when there were so many times  _ she  _ wanted to visit. 

Before he could reply, something crashed through the ceiling. Oh, right. Him. He stared as his sixteen year-old self—clad in the overly-bright blue and red suit—tumbled onto the floor and did a front roll to land on his feet. A figure wearing all black floated through the hole in the roof, a green glow surrounding his hands and feet.

Peter scoffed. “All black?” he muttered. “That’s cliche.”

“Cliche, much!” sixteen year-old Peter shouted as he swung from rafter to rafter. Morgan snorted. “Dude, all black, really? Don’t you want to mix it up a little bit? Show a little villain style? I mean, I know red and blue are cliche, too, but at least I copied Captain freaking America!” 

“You haven’t changed a bit,” Morgan said. “And your voice! It’s… high-pitched.”

Peter glared at her. “Is not.”

“It is. You talk a  _ lot _ during battles, too. Like Jesus Christ, did my dad not tell you that—oh, shit, that looked like it hurt.  _ Oof. _ ” 

Peter looked down. Yeah. The bad guy had sliced his web, and younger Peter slammed against the ground face first. When he stood, blood soaked the front of his mask. 

“My nose?” his younger self shouted. It came out as  _ m’ nobe  _ with the injury. “Really? I have this girl I like and—”

The villain blasted him back with an energy beam that hurled Peter against the wall. He crumbled, but dragged himself to his feet. Peter was hit with a surge of pride for his younger self, but also anxiety—was this why Tony had so many gray hairs? The villain hit him again. Again. Again. Finally, Peter didn’t get up. 

“This doesn’t look good,” Morgan said.

The villain grabbed Peter by the neck and dragged him across the floor, and with a grunt, tossed him into the water. He stared at the sinking form for a moment, then flew out the hole in the ceiling. Peter watched in horror as his younger self drifted to the bottom, a streak of red following him. His arms and legs spread, and his hair billowed out. He floated to the top of the pool, still facedown. Peter waited for his younger self to climb out. He kept waiting. Nothing. 

“You’ve been in the water for… a long time,” Morgan whispered. 

“Um, yeah.” He furrowed his brow. “I have.” 

“Is that… right?”

“I have zero clue.” He hadn’t died that day. He hadn’t. He wouldn’t be here now if he had. But where was Tony? How did he get out of this?

“Should we…”

“No. We aren’t doing anything.” 

“Peter, I don’t want to watch you die.”

“I evidently didn’t die!” 

“ _ Evidently _ my ass, time travel is a bitch! We don’t know what happened.” 

“I—”

A red and yellow blur shot through the roof. Peter stopped talking. 

_ Tony.  _

Tony dove into the pool without pausing and gathered Peter in his arms. The nanotech mask dissolved as he lifted Peter. With a ragged, desperate cry, Tony dragged him from the water. They collapsed as one tangled being onto the floor. Tony pulled Peter’s mask off and patted his face, the Iron Man suit fading away around him. In the rafters, a sick feeling swelled in Peter’s stomach. What was he about to watch?

“Peter,” Tony whispered. “Hey, Pete. Come on, kid. Open your eyes.”  Nothing. Peter could see that his own chest was unmoving. Was he dead? Had he died? Had Tony hidden that from him? “Peter,” Tony repeated, his voice cracking on the last syllable. “Peter, please.” He put his ear to Peter’s mouth, then swore violently.

“You aren’t breathing,” Morgan whispered.

Peter swatted her lightly. “I know that.” 

“Christ,” Tony murmured. “Oh, Christ.” Tony’s face tensed as he began CPR, pumping his hands against Peter’s chest, then tipping Peter’s head back so he could breathe for him. He continued, grunting as he pumped harder and harder. 

A second set of repulsors fired. Rhodey. He landed next to Tony in the War Machine armor, and when his face mask flipped up, his lips were parted, eyes brimming with tears.

“Tony…” Rhodey whispered.

“Not now, Rhodey!” The suit encircled Tony’s hands and forearms. He screwed up his entire face as he began CPR with new vigor; Peter realized tears ran down Tony’s cheek, catching in his beard. Peter’s ribs cracked. Tony didn’t stop. He forced more air into Peter’s lungs, then began pumping again, nearly sobbing. 

“Tony.” Rhodey knelt next to him, reaching out. Tony pushed him away. “He’s gone.”

“He’s not  _ fucking  _ gone!” Tony doubled over and landed on his palms, chest heaving. “Keep… keep going, keep trying, keep… he’s not…” Tony straightened and pressed his hands over his mouth. “Oh, God. Rhodey, he’s dead, he’s  _ dead. _ It’s my fault.”

“Tony, you couldn’t have done anything differently. It’s not your fault.” 

Tony didn’t reply. Instead, he pulled Peter close, holding his limp body to his chest. He wrapped his arms around Peter’s torso, cradling him, Peter’s legs sprawled haphazardly over Tony’s thighs. Tony pressed his nose into Peter’s wet hair, eyes scrunched closed, and rocked slightly. After a moment, Tony began to weep. They weren’t showy, breathless sobs, no—Tony cried silently, the tears falling onto Peter’s face. 

Then, Tony stopped. 

“No,” he said. “Nope, nope, nope, not today! Not today, Rhodey, I’m not losing my fucking kid today.” He laid Peter on the ground, supporting his head. He gritted his teeth, and then the palms of his suit glowed electric blue. “Cut open his suit.”

Without protest, Rhodey sliced open the front of Peter’s suit. Tony rubbed his hands together, then pressed them to Peter’s chest. His body jolted. Morgan winced. Peter almost wanted to look away, but he couldn’t. Not as Tony shocked sixteen year-old him again; not as the Peter on the ground coughed, water spewing from his mouth. Tony sat back on his heels, exhaling and closing his eyes. When he opened them, he cupped his hand around Peter’s face, watching him with a soft expression.

Peter needed to puke. He needed to run. He needed to scream, to cry, to do  _ something.  _ He’d been… so,  _ so  _ loved by Tony. The entire time. Even when he felt as if he was bothering him, he was loved. Tony loved him. Tony brought him back to life not once, but  _ twice _ , and hadn’t even told Peter about the first time. How had he repaid Tony?

“Any idea who did this?” Rhodey asked. 

“I don’t care right now,” Tony said. “Let’s get him to MedBay. We’ll worry about it later.”

He hadn’t. He’d  _ never  _ repaid Tony, even after Tony gave up everything for him, 

“Hey.” Morgan elbowed him, hard, then pointed at the ceiling. 

A green glow shone through the hole. 

Peter tossed Morgan the nanites for the Rescue armor, then activated his stealth suit and swung upwards. They’d never caught the bastard—maybe it was for a reason. Maybe he was supposed to do so today. 

As silently as he could, he swung through the hole. Tony and Rhodey didn’t even look up. Peter landed on the roof. “Alright, Karen, help me out,” he said. “Where is he?”

“Life signals detected behind you,” his AI said.

“What are we looking for?”

Peter whipped around, ready for a fight. Morgan hovered behind him unsteadily in the Rescue armor, the sleek metal fitting her stocky frame like a glove. 

“Karen, you detected Morgan’s life signals, look for—” He froze, arm hairs standing up, as green light glowed on the other side of the roof. “Hey!”

He broke into a sprint. The criminal turned and blasted up into the air. He fired an energy beam at Peter. Peter dodged and ran. 

“Hey, idiot! Why’d you try to drown a kid? Are you really that sick?” Peter shouted. Maybe the guy would be stupid enough to talk. 

Silver flashed by him. Morgan launched herself at the criminal and slammed her fist against his chin. Peter stopped, unable to believe his eyes. Was this how Tony felt every time Peter rushed into a situation without  _ planning _ ? 

“Or we can fight,” he muttered to himself. “That’s fine, too.” 

Morgan dragged the criminal to the ground. He grunted, struggling against her metal hold. Peter rushed forward, but the criminal knocked Morgan across the roof with another energy blast. Peter’s fist sailed forward. The criminal blocked his punch.

“Think you’re tough?” Peter said. He flipped into a kick. The criminal took the hit. Three knives appeared in his hands.

“Whoa, are those nanite knives?” Peter dodged the first one. “I haven’t seen those in a hot minute.” He flipped over the criminal’s head. Kicked him again. “Does anyone say hot minute now, or does that age me?”

The criminal’s suit whirred. Blaster guns sprouted from his back. 

“Oh okay, you wanna play that game?” Peter activated the metal arms in his suit as well as the Jericho-style weapon Tony had perfected. “Let’s go! Let’s see whose suit is better.” He reached. Caught the criminal’s mask. Pulled. 

A familiar face greeted him.

Justin Hammer, older than he remembered. 

He’d never met the man in person before, but he knew the story. Tony told it in pieces on days where he felt more vulnerable. A tech rivalry had turned into a disaster, culminating in the disaster that was the 2009 Stark Expo. Not only had Peter been there, he and Tony later realized, but Tony had saved his life, years and years before they would even meet. Things like that made him believe in destiny.

Hammer standing before him also showed him fate worked in funny ways. 

“You’re Stark’s boy,” Hammer said. 

“And you,” Peter began, realization washing over him, “are from the future.”

“You are, too.” 

His heart raced. Shit.  _ Shit _ . Hammer was after the Stark Tech in 2035, and somehow, he’d harnessed time travel. Had Sam and Bucky known?

Had they  _ kept  _ it from him? 

“Nobody ever saw Stark for what he was,” Hammer said. “He took advantage of people, but he didn’t know how to use his tech. Brilliant mind, yet  _ so  _ much squandered potential.”

“His is still the best in the world,” Peter said.

“Stark Industries hasn’t been the same since Stark died. We could make it better.”

“We?” Who else was involved?

Before Hammer could reply, Morgan shot through the sky toward him, leading with a rectangular shield protecting her face. 

Hammer smirked. “See you later, Parker.”

Just as Morgan was about to hit, he tapped a device on his wrist twice and vanished. Peter ducked before Morgan could collide with him. Her suit screeched against gravel, but she rolled into a fighting position, one knee down and the other leg extended. His chest clenched.

How many times had he seen Tony land like that?

“Where’d he go?” She stood and flipped back her mask, surveying the air, her brow furrowed. “Where is he?”

Peter stumbled back toward the hole in the ceiling and peered through at his younger self, Tony, and Rhodey. Rhodey spoke to someone on the phone—probably a medical transport. Tony wasn’t paying attention. He sat with Peter’s head on his lap, running his hands through Peter’s wet hair and watching him with a tender expression. Whenever Peter moved or moaned with pain, Tony hushed him, cupping his hand around Peter’s jaw. 

What Peter wouldn’t give for that touch now. 

“This is what he wouldn’t tell you?” Morgan crouched next to him, holding her side. 

“He put the arc reactor back in soon after this,” Peter said. Had he frightened Tony enough to make him want a suit with him at all times? It was still months until Titan, months until… until Peter died. “I know why he didn’t tell me.”

“He was afraid of how much he loved you,” Morgan murmured. “I know how that feels.” 

His lower lip quivered. He couldn’t cry. Not here. 

“Let’s go home,” he said. 

She frowned. “We’ve barely been here. Don’t you want to—”

“I want to go home.”

“Okay, dude.” She stood and activated her quantum suit, and Peter did the same. Even as they traveled, his mind raced.  _ You never repaid him.  _ Had Tony known how much Peter loved him before he died? Had he known that Peter would’ve given his own life if it meant Tony could take another breath? Why had he never told him? 

They materialized on the platform in Scott’s backyard. Peter felt Morgan’s eyes on him, but he stared up at the sky, forcing back tears. Did Scott and Hope know about Hammer’s involvement, too? Had everyone known?

Probably. They’d probably kept it from him. 

_ I’m not good enough.  _ Tony trusted him to protect the world, his family, when he was gone, and Peter was never enough. He couldn’t even tell the people around him that he loved them. What good  _ was  _ he?

“Peter,” Morgan whispered. “Please look at me.”

Vaguely, he heard Scott, Hope, and Cassie talking, but he ignored them and stepped off the platform.  _ Not good enough _ , he thought as he strode to the car.  _ You aren’t good enough to protect them. You aren’t good enough to lead anyone.  _

He got into the driver’s side, and as soon as Morgan shut the door behind her, he drove off, feeling as if his heart was about to explode.  

“Are you okay?” Morgan asked. 

Peter didn’t trust himself to reply. If he opened his mouth, everything he’d held in for the past twelve years could tumble out. That couldn’t happen.

It couldn’t. He was in control. 

He kept driving silently. 

 

#

 

Morgan was scared. 

Something was wrong with Peter. 

His knuckles bleached on the wheel as he sped down open roads, eyes ahead and jaw clenched. Every time she tried to ask if he was okay, he shrugged her off or mumbled something incoherent, like he was afraid to speak. 

Finally, they stopped.

“Peter…” Her voice caught in the back of her throat when she realized where they were. 

Her childhood home. 

He got out of the car and strode toward the lake, eyes down, but Morgan stepped out carefully and took in her surroundings. The beautiful, shaded porch. The wooden house. The lake and her playhouse, still standing after all these years. She and her mom moved back to the city after her dad died, but the first few years, they came and visited. After awhile, though, they stopped coming for long periods time. Morgan figured it became too painful for her mom. Still, they visited every few months, even if just for a few hours.

For her dad was buried here, by the lake. 

That’s where Peter was going. Where he was  _ running.  _

“Peter!” she called. “Peter!” Morgan chased him down the hill. He was too fast. Her lungs burned. Her legs and stitches ached. Still she ran. She’d get to him before he broke. 

She found him at the edge of the lake by her dad’s grave. He was curled in on himself, head pressed to the headstone's top and nails digging into the side. His knees dug into the grass as he wept silently, face streaked with tears. 

Morgan knelt and pulled him away from the grave. “Peter,” she whispered. She cupped his face and tried to wipe away his tears. They fell too fast. “Peter, please.”

“I can’t, Morgan, I can’t, I can’t, he…” He cried harder, his entire body shaking. 

“Peter, we need to go home.”

He gasped desperately as he curled in on himself; Morgan kept hold on his face with one hand and pulled him to her chest with the other. 

“It’s my fault. All of this is my fault.” Peter cried out, wounded and animalistic, then pressed his hands to his mouth as if he could stifle the sound. “Morgan, if I hadn’t died, he  _ never  _ would have gone back in time. He would have rested. He wouldn’t have wielded the gauntlet. I can’t… I can’t do this, Morgan, I can’t.”

“You didn’t choose to die,” she said. “Thanos killed you. It’s not your fault. I don’t blame you. Mom and Rhodey and Happy don’t blame you.”

“I just wanted it to  _ end _ all those years ago.”

The air around her chilled. Her bones and blood chilled. “Peter?”

“No, no, you can’t know. I can’t tell you.” 

“Peter, please.”

“I never would’ve done it, I promise, I  _ promise _ , but I was standing at the edge of a building, and I kept thinking about how everyone I love dies, and that I couldn’t keep anyone safe, not really, and I was terrified for May and Pepper and Ned and Mj, and God, for  _ you _ , I was so scared for you, Morgan. I just thought that maybe if I wasn’t here, that maybe I could be with  _ him _ , that you all would be safe and—”

Morgan gasped, tears falling over her cheeks. “Stop, please stop.”

“I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I’m so sorry.” He kept repeating it. 

She ran her hand through his hair and kissed his forehead, then pulled him to his feet. She looked to her dad’s grave for a moment, tears running over her cheeks.

“I’ll take care of him, Dad,” she murmured. “It’s my turn to take care of him for you.” 

She helped him into the passenger side of the car, then got into the driver’s seat herself. As she drove, she snuck glances at Peter, who was trying to stop crying and failing each time. What would she have done if Peter had… if Peter was… if he was gone. If he’d gone through with it. He was her brother, damn blood and biology, and she’d protect him. She never thought he’d  _ needed  _ protection, but he did. Everyone did. 

“I want him back, Morgan,” he finally said when they neared the tower. Almost home. Almost to safety. 

“So do I,” she replied.

“More than anything. Losing him messed me up. Like, really messed me up.”

“Maybe you should go to therapy.”

He didn’t reply. She glanced over, thinking she’d said something wrong. Perhaps she had, but not in the way she’d thought. He needed therapy. _ She  _ needed therapy, probably. But he was back into Avengers-mode, his jaw clenched. She didn’t like seeing him like that now. 

“Everyone’s at the tower?” he asked. 

“I think so,” she replied. “Peter, we need to talk about—”

“Good.” He worked his jaw and wiped his eyes. “We have business.”

 

#

 

Morgan parked at the back of the tower, but didn’t get out of the car. Once he calmed down—he still couldn’t believe he’d gone  _ running  _ to Tony’s grave, scaring Morgan in the process—he texted Pepper and the Avengers who were currently in New York to meet him at the tower. They’d kept information from him. He needed to know why. 

“Are you sure you’re okay?” she asked.

“Good enough to do this.” That was his reply more times than not in any situation. He always needed to be ready, no matter what. He just couldn’t believe he’d told Morgan about his… his suicidal thoughts. It took him a long time to admit they were that, even longer to move beyond them. Before, only May, MJ, Ned, and Pepper knew. They weren’t present any more. 

But maybe he still needed to talk to someone else. 

He  _ really  _ couldn’t think about it now, though. If Hammer was involved, it was even more personal than he thought. Morgan and Pepper could be in danger, and that wasn’t allowed. 

“Are you going to kick their asses?” Morgan asked as they got into the elevator. It would take them to the floor the Avengers used as their HQ. “Can I video that?”

“I’m not going to kick their asses.” Peter bounced on his heels as they ascended. 

“Are you going to yell?”

“I don’t know what I’m going to do.”

“Well, I’m going in with you. I won’t say anything about time travel.”

“Your mom doesn’t know?”

“Nope.”

“You should tell her.”

“Yeah, and you should go see a therapist, but you don’t see me telling you what to do.”

The elevator stopped. The doors opened. 

_ You are a leader,  _ Peter told himself, then exited the elevator and headed toward the conference room. He could see them all gathered through the glass-paneled walls, but didn’t let himself be cowardly, not with Morgan at his side. He pushed the door open and walked through. Seven heads turned to him—Pepper, Rhodey, Scott, Hope, Bucky, Sam, Strange. 

Sam moved to stand. “Peter, you look—” 

“You lied to me,” Peter interrupted. “You didn’t tell me more people besides Adrian Toomes were involved in the Stark tech situation.”

“We didn’t mean to—” Hope began.

“Five years ago,” Peter began quietly, ignoring her, “when I graduated college, you all asked me if I wanted to formally lead the Avengers. I said no. I’m not a colonel, I’m not a super soldier, not even a soldier. I’ve never been to war in the traditional sense. I never trained in combat, I don’t have magic or power from an infinity stone, I’m not a badass in outer space. I am a kid from Queens who happened to be bitten by a radioactive spider. That’s all I am, and you asked me to be your leader because I’ve seen and survived things you guys can’t imagine. I wanted to be the friendly neighborhood Spider-Man, but the world wanted more, so I gave more. I will give everything I can, but if I’m to lead you, I need everyone to be honest with me.”

Strange met his gaze. “What’s this—”

“Don’t finish that sentence with  _ about _ . You all lied to me.”

“Lied by omission,” Sam added. “I told you the Vulture was involved.”

“Yeah, but you forgot to say that Justin Hammer was involved.” 

Pepper swore. “ _ Peter _ .”

“I know, too, Mom,” Morgan said quietly. 

“Anyone else I should know about?” Peter asked.

Rhodey shifted in his seat. “An associate of Adrian Killian.” 

“Adrian Killian?” Morgan echoed. 

“Extremis,” Peter said. “People were blowing up like bombs.”

“I killed him,” Pepper said quietly. All eyes turned to her. Morgan’s jaw fell open. “Don’t look so surprised! I had a ton of Extremis in me and he was going to kill Tony.”

“You didn’t tell me you were a badass!” Morgan said. 

Peter held up his hand to stop her before she went on a tangent. “What matters,” he said, “is that if I’m to lead this team and protect the technology Tony spent his life creating, I need to be fully informed. We need to strategize.”

“Then let’s hear some ideas, boss,” Bucky said. Peter looked to him gratefully. Strange, however, sat with his lips twisted to the side. Whatever. Couldn’t please everyone.

“Morgan, didn’t you want to put some time in down in the lab?” Pepper asked.

Morgan sat in a chair in the corner and curled up—careful of her stitched-up side, even if she was discreet about it. “Nah, plenty of time for that after this. I’ll listen in.”

The meeting lasted nearly three hours. They compiled all the information they had on Killian, Hammer, and Toomes, including potential targets. A lump formed in Peter’s throat when MJ was mentioned, but he pushed on. After creating a dossier, they indexed the tech that the three men would most want to take, starting with the Iron Man suits and ending with basic bots Tony made—like Dum-E. Morgan scoffed at that. 

“They’d bring him back and beg for mercy,” she said. 

At the end, Pepper and Rhodey watched him with proud expressions. Everyone filed out, including Pepper and Morgan, but Rhodey lingered and clapped Peter’s shoulder. 

“He would’ve been proud of you today,” Rhodey said. 

Peter managed a small smile. “Thank you.” 

“Really, kid. I’m proud of you too, for what it’s worth. I remember you in Germany, God. Never knew how to shut your mouth during a fight.”

“You told me last week that I didn’t know how to do that now.”

“Some things never change, huh?”

“Yeah, yeah, you’re definitely right about that.” Peter swallowed hard. He couldn’t tell Rhodey about time traveling because he’d undoubtedly tell Pepper, but he could circumnavigate. “Listen, uh, I had a question for you. Remember that night I almost drowned?”

Rhodey exhaled. “Jesus Christ, do I. Poor Tones. Dude had nightmares for weeks.”

“I figured.” Peter quieted, trying to phrase what he wanted to say next. “He knew that I … he knew I cared…” _ Did he know that I loved him?  _ “Did he know that I cared?” He clenched his jaw.  _ Don’t cry.  _ Why was he acting so childlike after asking them to respect him?

Rhodey’s eyes softened. “Tony was a perceptive guy,” he said. “He knew everything you felt before you even realized it. He knew, Peter.”

He nodded, unable to reply. Rhodey squeezed his shoulder once more before leaving the room. Peter collapsed onto the couch in the corner, wanting nothing more than to go back to his apartment and hold MJ. 

“Hi.”

Morgan stood in the doorway.

He went to sit up, but she rushed over and pushed him down. She sat next to him, and without preamble, said, “I want to know that you’re okay before you leave.”

“I am. I’m feeling a lot better.” Peter took her hand. She held his with an iron grip. “I’m sorry if I scared you earlier.”

“You meant it, though.”

“Yes.” He closed his eyes, remembering the wind blowing through his hair, the cold, the emptiness in his body on the rooftop all those years ago. “I thought about it. I almost did it.”

“You didn’t.”

“I opened my eyes and saw a mural for him. Then, Strange showed up. We had a chat, and that was that.” He dragged in a breath, then another, just as he’d done for twelve years. “I lived, Morgan. I survived.”

She leaned her head against his shoulder. “I’m so grateful you did.”

They sat in silence for a long time before Peter said, “One more trip, then.”

Her gaze pierced him. “Can you do it?”

He smiled—not the wide, fake grin he’d perfected, but something genuine. Something that felt warm, down to his soul, even if it was temporary. “Try to stop me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Peter, when upset, tells Morgan that he contemplated suicide after Tony died twelve years ago. He says that he considered it but ultimately didn't go through with it, due to his personal thoughts and intervention from Dr. Strange. He also says that he no longer feels that way.


	6. lake house, 2022

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Morgan and Peter’s last trip through time yields familiar faces and new discoveries—but is it enough to satisfy them?

Today, Morgan would make her last trip into the past. 

Cassie double-checked Morgan’s quantum suit, securing loose straps. “Remember what I asked you?” she said. “Did you figure out what you wanted from this?”

“I just wanted to see my dad,” Morgan replied. 

_ Liar _ , her brain provided.  _ You wanted more.  _ She didn’t know if she’d found more. She hadn’t stopped long enough to think about it.

“If you say so.” Cassie smoothed Morgan’s hair from her face. “Cut healing okay?”

“Yeah.” She’d successfully hidden the stitches—the beautifully clean stitches her dad did—from her mom. 

“Particles secured?”

“Yeah.”

“Do you want to let me time travel instead of you?”

“ _ No _ .” 

Cassie laughed. “There you are. Knock the past dead, Mo.”

Morgan stepped onto the platform across from Peter.  _ Last trip _ , she thought.  _ This is the last time you’ll see Dad.  _ Thanks to shitty time travel rules, he’d never truly known her. Was this all she would get? Four trips into the past where he never knew her? 

“Ready?” Peter said.

She nodded. “Ready.”

They soared into the quantum realm. She and Peter decided earlier that they would land about three miles from the lake house and walk to avoid materializing in front of Tony or Pepper on accident. Today more than ever, it was  _ essential  _ that Tony didn’t see Peter. He’d been gone for close to four years—almost exactly four years. Neither of them wanted to visit on the anniversary of the snap, but they picked a date nearly a week before. 

Yet when skyscrapers and smog materialized over their heads, Morgan realized she was _ not  _ in the forest. Not even close. 

“Shit,” Peter muttered, quantum suit receding to reveal his jeans and blue flannel shirt. “I think the machine scrambled the Battle of New York and 2022 coordinates. This is where we materialized in 2012. I just… why can’t anything go  _ right _ ?”

“Did you expect anything else?” Morgan said. “So what do we do? Walk?”

“I would say fly in our suits, but that’ll cause too much suspicion. We’ll find a car.” He checked the device around his wrist, then paled. “We also messed up the day. We’re here on the fourth anniversary of the snap.” 

A chill ran through Morgan as she dissolved her suit back to nanites and stepped from the alley. Inexplicably, she wanted to cry. This was not her city. These thinned crowds and scorched buildings were not hers; the people with pinched faces who passed her were not her fellow New Yorkers. She stood in the middle of the sidewalk, chin lifted and fists clenched at her side. People walked around her, heads bowed. How had the Avengers not done anything for  _ five years _ while the world looked like this?

Peter came to his side, eyes sliding over the city as his hand came to her back. 

“This is terrible,” she whispered. 

“More than half the world’s population died,” he said. “There was the snap, sure, but think of the car and plane crashes. The accidents. A friend of mine, actually, died like that. Her mom was dusted while driving, and Liz died in the crash. Those people never returned.” 

She blinked rapidly. No crying. Not now. “Can we see the tower before we go?” 

His eyes softened. “Of course.” 

They walked the few blocks it took to reach Stark Towers. Morgan couldn’t stop staring at the carnage, wishing she could bring Thanos back from the dead and kill him again. She would pause to curse him out for taking her dad. 

Peter stopped. Morgan pulled herself from thought to do the same. 

Stark Towers loomed before them, cold and lonely with the  _ A  _ at the center. Her dad sold the tower briefly, her mom said, then decided to keep it at the last moment to stay close to Peter—although he claimed it was for business reasons. It became beneficial when Thanos fucking wrecked the old compound. It was her home, now, the second home she’d ever known, where she grew to love Peter and all the other Avengers. Despite the chill, flowers lay at the doors, along with messages for the Avengers. Only two other people were at the tower, a broad-shouldered blonde man with a military stance and an athletic woman with blonde-tipped red hair wearing all black. 

She knew people fitting that description. 

She looked again.

“Holy shit,” she muttered. 

Those people were Natasha Romanoff and Steve Rogers. Judging from Peter’s parted lips, he’d only recognized them a moment ago, too. 

“We should talk to them,” Morgan said. “Would they recognize you?”

“Maybe.” Peter’s shoulders tensed. “I shouldn’t risk it.” 

“Don’t you want to talk to them?”

He shook his head tightly. “I don’t have much to say.”

She knew the story of the Accords, knew how Rogers and Romanoff betrayed her dad and left him alone —the last Avenger in New York . Maybe it was fresher for Peter since he lived it. She only knew how Uncle Rhodey said Steve, once he returned, was loyal to her dad until he carried his body off the battlefield; she also knew Natasha Romanoff gave her life for the universe and didn’t receive the same credit as her dad. She knew that so often, women remained nameless, especially women like Natasha, and her dad never would have never had a gauntlet to wield had Natasha not died for the soul stone. 

“They could recognize me,” Peter said more quietly. “But you should talk to them.”

She swallowed hard, but moved closer. Their conversation became audible.  

“Did you talk to Stark?” Natasha asked.

“Briefly,” Steve replied. “I don’t think he’s forgiven me.”

“What’d he say?”

“That if I called to beg and whine, he already has a three year-old who does that.”

Natasha snorted. “I miss him.”

“Me too. I assume you talked to him?”

“I went over for dinner a few weeks ago. His kid’s adorable, I’ll give him that. She’s gonna be a force of nature one day.”

_ That’s me.  _ Her mom never mentioned that Natasha visited. Morgan cleared her throat. “Excuse me,” she said. “Mr. Rogers? Miss Romanoff?” 

They both turned. Morgan’s pulse quickened—Steve Rogers was even more handsome in person. Natasha, though, had sad, tragic eyes, framed by red-blonde hair. 

“Um…” Morgan searched for something to say. Shit, what was she supposed to say?

“Can I help you?” Steve said.

Natasha’s eyes narrowed as she stepped closer to Morgan. “Do we know you?” 

“No,” Morgan said quickly. “But, uh, I know you. From the news and everything.” 

Steve’s shoulders slumped. “Look, kid—”

“And I wanted to say thank you.” She forced herself to meet Natasha’s gaze. “Truly. Thank you for everything you’ve done for the world, and um, thank you for everything you’ll do. I know it looks hopeless now, but…” She trailed off, not trusting herself to say anything else. 

“But what?” Natasha prompted.

“But I believe things will get better one day.” Tears brimmed in her eyes. God, Natasha never got to see the results of her sacrifice. She never knew that they won. Her dad’s story was a tragedy… but Natasha’s was, too. “There’s still hope. I believe you will make things better.” 

Without another word, she turned away and strode back to Peter. 

“Hey!” Natasha called. Morgan glanced over her shoulder. Natasha approached, head tilted carefully to the side. “You never told me your name.”

She grinned—Natasha’s brow furrowed. Morgan knew she had her dad’s eyes and smile; she almost wanted Natasha to recognize them. “Hope,” she replied, knowing they wouldn’t recognize her middle name. “Take that as a sign, won’t you?”

She joined Peter. He slung an arm around her shoulder as they walked away. She felt Natasha’s and Steve’s eyes on her, but she wouldn’t look back.

“I jumped a car,” Peter said. “We can bring it back, if it makes you feel better.”

She scrunched up her nose. “Spider-Man, hotwiring a car?” 

“I’m just Peter Parker here, and Peter Parker stole from junkyards before he—I—met your dad. We can either drive or walk.”

She chose driving. 

Only once they were well on their way did she say, “You didn’t know them.”

“Natasha and Steve?” Peter drummed his fingers against the steering wheel. “No. I fought alongside her in Germany, against Steve, and then alongside Steve against Thanos. She and Steve were on the run during most of mine and Tony’s time together. He talked about them, though. Respected the hell out of Natasha, wanted to get along better with Steve.”

“Nobody knows her name. Not like my dad’s.”

“The world isn’t always fair, Morgan. I’ve learned that.” 

She pondered that as the roads became increasingly overgrown and rural. There were so many women being heroes, but even now, the world needed more. She admired Carol, Hope, Wanda, Cassie, Nebula, her mom, and all the other female heroes in the public eye. She wanted to be as brave as them, as strong as them, but something was stopping her. She didn’t know what it was. 

Peter stopped the car in the woods near the lake house. They got out and walked in silence toward the house, toward the lake near which her dad would one day be buried.

“Did you have a plan?” Peter asked. 

“I thought you did.” She winked once Peter’s eyes were sufficiently wide. “Kidding. But no, not really. I just want to watch. Maybe stay for awhile?”

Peter nodded. 

The trees became more sparse; the wind meandered off the lake and whispered. Neither one of them had to say that this was their last trip into the past. She had a better idea of who her dad was, but she didn’t  _ know _ him. Would this be enough?  _ It has to be.  _

Peter replaced his jeans and t-shirt with the black quantum suit, and Morgan copied him. They were closer to the house than she would’ve dared to go alone. Her childhood home seemed different in this era, in this light, but residual sadness still encapsulated it—yet now, it was for Peter rather than her dad. He’d always been a part of her family. She’d only been too young to know.

The front door opened. Morgan’s breath hitched. 

Her parents walked out of the house, their hands intertwined; her younger self, about three years old, was propped on her dad’s hip. Morgan’s small hands clutched his chest, her head tucked into Tony’s neck. 

“You ready for a picnic, baby?” her dad said. “What do you want to eat?”

“Cheeseburger,” she said. 

“You’ve corrupted her,” her mom said. “She won’t eat anything but cheeseburgers and juice pops. Wait until she’s a teenager. She’ll be a nightmare with the coffee.”

“You won’t get addicted to caffeine, will you?” Her dad kissed the side of her head. In the trees, Morgan touched the spot where his lips once were. “We’ll leave the coffee for Mommy, because we know how Mommy is when she doesn’t get coffee.”   
Morgan watched as they laid out a blanket by the lake, then put down plates of sandwiches—no cheeseburgers—bowls of chips, fruit, and a pitcher of lemonade. There were bags under her dad’s eyes, but he smiled and chattered as he fixed a plate for Morgan, then her mom, then himself. When Pepper wasn’t looking, he reached under a covered plate and gave Morgan a cookies. As they ate, her mom leaned into her dad’s side. His hand found hers. Her younger self climbed into her dad’s lap. 

“You were a cute kid,” Peter said beside her. 

Morgan suddenly wanted to scream. How many days like this could she have had? How many picnics were stolen from her? She couldn’t remember any of this, and now, she couldn’t participate. She would always know her dad from afar. 

Once the food was gone, Morgan’s younger self got up to play by the lake. Her dad followed. Morgan couldn’t make out the words, but she and her dad were laughing, running, toeing the shoreline. Tony kicked sand toward her, and she squealed with happiness. Pepper watched from the blankets, a serene smile across her lips. 

Morgan’s younger self grabbed a handful of sand, giggling, and threw it in Tony’s face. 

Peter winced. 

“That’s brutal,” Morgan said. “Right in his eyes. I bet that stings like a motherfucker.”

“That’s not the problem,” Peter whispered. 

On the shoreline, Morgan kept playing, but her dad’s body went rigid. He fell to his knees, eyes blown wide and chest heaving. Her mom’s smile vanished. 

“Morgan, sweetheart!” she called as she sprinted toward the lake. “Sweetheart, why don’t you go get some of your toys so you and Daddy can play? Can you go upstairs and get your toys? Go get Daddy’s favorites.”

Morgan toddled away. Pepper knelt before Tony and cupped his face in her hands. 

“Honey,” she said. “Honey, it’s 2022. You’re at home with me and Morgan.”

“ _ Peter _ ,” her dad choked out. “Peter, Peter.” He pulled away from her mom and stared at his hands, tears brimming in his eyes. 

“Honey, you’re not on Titan. You’re home. You feel the wind, honey? That’s coming off the water. I’ve got you. Breathe with me, okay?” 

Morgan watched as her parents counted breaths together, then dared to glance at Peter. She instantly wished she hadn’t. His lips quivered, and his shoulders tilted toward Tony, like he wanted to go comfort him. 

“I couldn’t save him,” her dad gasped by the lake. “I lost him.”

“He doesn’t blame you,” her mom said. “He loved you, Tony. More than you know.”

Her dad took a few more ragged breaths, then steadied himself. Morgan toddled from the house, a mixture of stuffed animals and robots in her arms. Tony sniffled, then crouched by Morgan and took one of the robots, forcing a smile. 

“He’s faking it,” Morgan whispered. “He just had a panic attack.” 

Peter sighed. “I know.”

“Why? I know he saw the dusting, but…”

“I died in his arms, Morgan.” 

She stared at Peter, his guilty gaze. “What?”

“He was holding me when I turned to dust. It took me longer to die because of my enhanced DNA, and he held me the entire time.”

She hadn’t known that. Nobody had told her. 

_ Don’t think about it.  _ She couldn’t handle that now. Instead, she watched as she spent the rest of the day on the lake with her parents, heart full.  _ I could have had this.  _ Only when the sun set did they go inside, and Morgan moved from the trees to sit by the lake. Darkness fell; quiet rippled. Perhaps because half the world’s life was dead. 

Peter settled next to her. Exhaled. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay,” she said automatically. 

“Want to go inside?” 

“Isn’t that a recipe for disaster, or whatever your aunt says?” 

He grinned. “I’m feeling reckless. Let’s go inside. We have Scott’s shrinking technology, might as well put it to use.”

What did she have to lose? She followed him to the open kitchen window. WIth one last glance at him, making sure he wasn’t messing with her, she shrunk. Her cells quivered as they became smaller. How the  _ hell _ did Scott, Hope, and Cassie do this for fun? Crossing the windowsill felt like running a marathon, as did swimming through the murky water in the kitchen sink. Once she and Peter were out, though, they both returned to normal size. Only the living room light shone dimly through the hallway. 

“You realize we just broke into  _ Iron Man _ ’s house?” Morgan muttered. “You know he still has suits available. From what you’ve told me, I bet he has a gauntlet on him, too.”

Peter shrugged. Strange always told her that Peter had a weak spot when it came to Tony—maybe he had a point. “We’ll be fine,” he said. “Just stay on me.” 

“You know he can’t see us, right?”

“Exactly.” 

_Oh, God_ , Morgan thought as Peter crept into the hallway. _I’m the rational one._ What a fucking plot twist that was. As angry as she was and as shitty as this trip was, she was the rational person here. What the hell? She’d follow him. Did anyone _truly_ need rationality?

She stepped softly after Peter, toward the living room. When he stopped, she peered around his shoulder. She smiled to herself. Her mom was curled on the couch, asleep, a blanket placed over her and a book peeking out from under it. That must have been her dad. Her hair was blonde, her face unlined. Even in sleep, back in 2035, her expression carried tension. 

Her mom barely stirred as they continued. Even though she couldn’t see him, Morgan realized how much space her dad occupied in this home. There were his shoes by the door. His half-full coffee mug that read  _ BEST DAD EVER! _ and plate with crumbs. A MIT hoodie. His phone. Peter trailed his fingers over the hoodie, then pulled it into his arms.

“Peter,” she chided. 

Peter shrugged. “He won’t miss it.” 

They continued toward the stairs. Morgan cocked her head. Someone was shuffling papers. Speaking in a low voice. Tapping on a screen. 

_ Tony _ , Peter mouthed.  _ Working.  _

Morgan peered around the corner and nearly gasped. Her dad worked at an electronic table, holographic files projected around him. Soft blue light illuminated the gray streaks in his hair and smile lines around his mouth and eyes. He hummed under his breath as he worked, tapping two screens at the same time. A cocky smirk crossed his lips and ran his hand through his hair, then pumped his fist. “That’s an upgrade,” he murmured. “Hello, new weapon in the suit. Let’s add that to the Rescue armor design, too, FRI.” 

She curled her fists at her side.  _ I could’ve had this.  _ She could’ve worked in the lab with him. He’d be proud of her.  _ I want this.  _ The thought burned steadily in her mind until it crescendoed into a blaze, all she could think about. 

She stumbled back. 

Her elbow hit the staircase.

Her dad instantly leapt to his feet, a gauntlet covering his hand. “Morgan?” he called, voice calm despite the weapon. “That you, baby?”

Morgan opened her mouth, but Peter held his finger to his lips. “We won’t get out, even with the shrinking tech. Heat sensors. Follow my lead.” 

He stepped forward. 

“Hey, Mr. Stark,” Peter said. His voice sounded  _ young _ . 

The gauntlet ebbed away. Her dad knocked over the stool he’d been sitting on. “Not again,” Tony whispered. “Please not again.”

“It’s okay, Mr. Stark.” Peter moved closer. “I’m here.” 

“No, you’re not. I know you’re not. Goddammit, Peter. Not today, please.” 

“Mr. Stark, you know that Titan wasn’t your fault?”

“ _ Please _ , Peter.”

“I don’t blame you.”

“Oh, Christ.”

“I’ll come home to you one day. 

“ _ Peter _ .” Her dad’s voice was a strangled whispered. 

Peter folded his hands behind his back and pinched his fingers together.  _ Smaller.  _ She would shrink. They’d flee. 

The stairs creaked. “Daddy?” a small voice called. Morgan gasped. Little feet thumped against the stairs. “Daddy, where are you?” Morgan’s younger self stopped on bottom step and pointed. “Petey!” 

Peter immediately shrunk. Morgan did the same. He ran to her side and pulled her arm, but she froze. Toddler Morgan stumbled off the steps toward Tony. “ _ Petey _ ,” she said insistently.

“No, baby, Petey isn’t here. Remember?” Tony scooped Morgan into his arms. “Why are you awake, huh? Why aren’t you sleeping?”

“Petey’s  _ here _ ,” she said. 

Her dad’s face crumpled, but he quickly composed himself. “No,” he whispered. “Peter isn’t here. He can’t visit. But you would’ve loved him. God, you would’ve.” His nose twitched. “He would’ve been the best big brother ever. Let’s get you back to bed. You had too many cookies and now you can’t sleep, squirt. I’ll tell you a Petey story.” 

He lifted her onto his hip and walked upstairs, footsteps heavy. Unable to breathe, unable to stay another moment in the house, Morgan activated the repulsors Scott installed in the suit and flew out the window. Peter’s repulsors hummed behind her. Only when she was near the lake did she return to her regular size and cup her hands over her mouth. Peter materialized next to her, tears rolling down his cheeks freely. 

“How did you know to do that?” Morgan whispered. 

“He suffered from hallucinations when stranded in space and when he first got back to Earth,” Peter replied. 

“Hallucinations of you?” 

“Yeah. Rhodey told me.” 

She stared at the moonlight rippling across the lake and stars twinkling above. Her dad didn’t know it now, not tonight, but in the future, one of those stars would be named after him, his body would rest by this lake, and every superhero in the galaxy would be at his home to honor his sacrifice. They would say that he saved the universe.

They wouldn’t know he did it not for the entire universe, but for the people he loved. 

“How do you feel?” Peter asked quietly. 

“Hollow,” she murmured. “You?”

He nodded. “Same.” 

“I thought this would make things better.”

“I know.” 

“I thought I’d feel at peace.”

He swiped away tears. “God, I know.”

“Can we go home?” She couldn’t stand looking at the lake and knowing all the things the water would see in the future, how many of her tears would fall into it. 

“Of course,” he said.

He truly was the best big brother. 

They materialized on the platform. Scott, Hope, and Cassie were quiet once they saw the expressions on Peter and Morgan’s faces. Morgan accepted a hug from Cassie before she got into the car, leaning into the other girl’s tight embrace. Cassie didn’t say anything. She didn’t have to. Scott, for many years, was lost to her. She understood. 

Peter drove her to the tower, his mouth pressed into a grim line. He was hurting, she could tell, but he wouldn’t say anything. He never did. When he stopped the car, though, he exhaled, breath shuddery.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I wanted this to be better.”

A lump rose in her throat. 

Peter nodded. “I know. Call me tonight so I know you’re okay.”

She squeezed his hand, then took the service elevator up to the penthouse. Her mom wasn’t in. Good. She strode into her room, chin held high and shoulders straight. “FRIDAY, lock the door,” she said. “Curtains Protocol, even for Mom.”

“Got it, boss,” FRIDAY replied. 

Morgan sat on the edge of her bed, not knowing what to do. That was that. She’d never her see dad again. She still didn’t know him. How could she have believed that four trips would be enough? Nothing would be enough. 

She began to sob and realized she didn’t know how to stop. 

 

#

 

Pepper came home from work exhausted. 

She’d had typical duties as the Stark Industries CEO, of course, but today brought a revolving door of Avengers with reports about Killian’s associate, Hammer, and Toomes. By the times Rhodey came, she’d wanted to tear her hair out. Of course those three had harnessed time travel to steal Tony’s technology. Hammer was from 2010 and had made a stop in 2017, Toomes from 2021, and the associate from an untraceable place, according to Rhodey. Even in death they couldn’t leave him the  _ fuck _ alone. It was always something. She’d known that when she added  _ Stark _ to her name, long before that, even. The way Tony lived and his legacy invited challengers, but she would conquer them, one by one. 

She kicked off her heels and set the Thai takeout she’d brought home on the table. “FRIDAY, will you tell Morgan that dinner is ready?” she said. Most likely, she’d get no response and put Morgan’s food in the fridge. Eating alone would be okay, though.

“Did you get the pumpkin coconut soup?”

Pepper’s chest loosened, but when she turned to Morgan, it tightened again. Morgan’s eyes were puffy and red-rimmed, her hair tied up in a greasy bun. She smelled like nature, and as she circled the table, looking at the food, she favored one side. 

“Everything okay?” Pepper asked mildly. 

“The soup?” Morgan repeated. 

Pepper sighed. “In the smallest bag.” 

She expected Morgan to take her food and go back to the lab. Instead, she sat at the table and reached for a plastic spoon.  _ Oh.  _ Pepper took the chair across from her and grabbed a curry. For a few minutes, they ate in silence. When Morgan was little, it used to be them against the world, but something changed. Morgan got older. More distant. Pepper lost her husband, yes—she’d always known it was a strong possibility—but she never expected to lose her daughter, too. 

Morgan exhaled and put down her spoon. “Why did nobody else pick up the gauntlet?” 

Pepper nearly choked. “Excuse me?”

“In the final battle against Thanos, why in God’s name did nobody else pick up that gauntlet? I know who was out there.  _ Everyone _ . Thor. Carol. All of them could’ve survived it. Quill could’ve survived it, too. His dad is a fucking planet.” 

Morgan stood and began to pace. “Steve Rogers had the serum. He could’ve survived it. Strange, even. Wanda. I’m surrounded by goddamn Avengers all the time, and you’re telling me that the only person with the courage to snap their fingers was someone with  _ zero _ powers? Why him?” Her voice cracked on the last word. 

“Morgan—” Pepper started.

“We were happy,” Morgan whispered. “We were really happy. They claim to care about us, but none of us them stepped up to the plate.” 

“I don’t know what you want me to say.” 

“I don’t know, Mom,  _ anything _ ? I don’t know Dad. Everyone tells me stories, but they’re doctored. They aren’t the truth. I don’t know my father and the entire world does. Don’t you think that’s fucked up? You haven’t done anything to fix that.” 

Pepper pinched the bridge of her nose, more exhausted than before. God, of course she wasn’t enough for her daughter. Nothing she did was enough, no matter how hard she tried. 

“Okay.” She held up her hands. “Okay, I haven’t done anything.”

Morgan narrowed her eyes, then snatched the soup off the table and stormed toward the elevator. Probably to go to the workshop. It was always the workshop. Head throbbing, Pepper grabbed her phone and opened her messages with May.  _ Drinks?  _ she texted.  _ I need alcohol. _

A few seconds later, May replied.  _ Leaving now _ . 

Pepper left the food on the table and took a car without telling Happy. Being Pepper Potts-Stark, that wasn’t a good idea, but she did it anyways. She could defend herself if need be, with the bracelet around her wrist doubling as a gauntlet. She drove into Queens until she reached a dingy bar on a forgotten corner. Pepper parked. May Parker waited outside for her, greeting her with a small smile as they walked inside and sat at the bar. 

They’d discovered this place in the weeks after Pepper and Morgan moved back to the city, and Pepper found a friend in May. After Tony died, May cooked more casseroles than Pepper liked to admit, took turns with Morgan, and in the worst weeks, made sure Pepper got out of bed, brushed her hair and teeth, and ate something resembling a meal. Pepper tried to return the favor by taking care of Peter, making sure he was responsible as Spider-Man. They grabbed drinks together sometimes, at a place where nobody gave a damn who they were or who they lost. 

The bartender gave them their beers. Pepper drained half the glass, and when she set it down, found May smiling at her. 

“That type of day?” May asked. 

Pepper nodded, learning her elbows on the bar. “I don’t know what to do with Morgan.”

May sighed. Pepper just nodded again. They’d spoken about this before, about loss and grief and raising a fatherless child. 

“She’s  _ angry _ , May,” Pepper said. “I don’t know how to help her. How can I help her?” 

“God, I asked myself that three times.” May sipped her beer. 

Tragedy, Pepper remembered, didn’t discriminate. Peter lost his parents, then his uncle, then Tony. May brought him through every time, though. She prayed for an ounce of that strength to save her daughter. 

“I hate to say this,” May began, “but sometimes there’s nothing you can do. Peter was angry every time. He tried to push me from his life. I didn’t let him. Didn’t hold on tighter or anything, I just let him be and let him know I was there. Yeah, he had a lot of anger in him.” She chuckled to herself, then sobered. “A lot of grief, too. He was hurting and it hurt him more to admit it. But you can’t rush them. You just have to wait, wait and be there. One day she’ll come to you, and when she does, you hold her tight. You hold her, you let her cry, you remind them you’re there to stay and tell them the grief will pass.”

Pepper blinked back tears. Morgan, she knew, was Tony’s daughter, through and through. More often than not, he would’ve rather eaten glass than admit how vulnerable he felt, and Morgan inherited that quality. Would she come to Pepper?

And if she did, would it be too late for her?

“She’ll come around, Pepper,” May said. “They always do.”

Pepper drank, the glass heavy in her hand.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that concludes the time adventures... but there are still more chapters to come ;) I'll continue with the daily updates, so stay tuned!! As always, I appreciate kudos, bookmarks, subscriptions, comments, and messages on tumblr more than you could know


	7. stark tower

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Trouble arrives at Stark Tower.

Exhaustion set in once Peter returned to his apartment. 

_ I’ll tell you a Petey story.  _

How many stories about him had Tony told Morgan in her childhood? How well did she know him before she even met him? Hearing Tony’s voice hurt more than he thought it would; at sixteen, he thought the pain would eventually ease. There were days when it did, but also days where any mention of Tony felt like rubbing salt into a raw wound. 

Peter collapsed face down onto his bed without pulling back the covers and fell asleep.

When he woke, his chest ached with loss. 

After all those years, a familiar feeling. 

He rubbed his eyes and stumbled from bed into the living room. He smiled to himself. MJ and Ned sat on the couch playing Mario Kart, a pot of Kraft mac and cheese and two spoons sitting on the coffee table. He cleared his throat. Immediately, they paused the game and looked to him, Ned with a smile and MJ with a scowl that meant she was smiling on the inside. 

“Dude, you went  _ time traveling _ ?” Ned said. “That must have been freaking insane.” 

Peter shrugged and curled into his favorite armchair. 

“That was the last trip, right?” MJ said.

He nodded. The last trip. The last time he’d ever see Tony. 

Ned’s smile turned sympathetic. He knew, maybe even better than MJ, what Tony’s death and everything that came after did to Peter. He’d been there since he first became Spider-Man, and despite having every reason to leave, never did. 

“Talk to us, Peter,” Ned said. 

“Do you guys think I need therapy?” Peter blurted. 

MJ’s jaw dropped. Ned barked out a laugh, then pressed his hand to his mouth.

“Sorry, I’m sorry for laughing,” Ned said. “I just…”

“We’ve been trying to find a way to tell you that for a decade,” MJ finished. “Yes, Peter. We both absolutely, a hundred percent, no doubt about it think you need therapy.” 

“Oh,” Peter said lamely. 

“Peter.” Ned’s voice shook. “I…” He looked to MJ.

“Okay, I’ll explain. You became Spider-Man at fourteen. Before that, you lost your parents and your uncle. Then, in no particular order, you fought Captain America and other Avengers, were trapped under a fallen building, went to outer space, fought Thanos in outer space,  _ died _ , came back to life and fought Thanos again, and watched Tony die. That was all before you turned seventeen. Shall I go on?”

“I get it,” Peter said. “It just… never seemed like a good time.”

“You said that every time,” Ned countered. “After Thanos, after Tony—”

“That was—”

“After Mysterio, after Doctor Doom, after Venom. That’s what you always say.”

“We’re terrified that we’ll lose you.” MJ didn’t meet his eye as she spoke. “You have PTSD, and probably anxiety, too. You need help. 

Peter bit his lip.  _ Tony never went to therapy _ , he wanted to say. It was a shit argument, he knew that, but he clung to it. He needed to be as strong as Tony. “Nobody would understand the full extent of it,” he said instead. 

“Sam Wilson would,” MJ said. “He was literally a therapist, and once he retires from being Cap, he’ll probably be a therapist again.” 

Damn. Of course she would have a solution. Why had he brought this up?

He grabbed the mac and cheese and took out his phone, checking if he had missed calls. “Morgan was supposed to call me.”  _ That _ slightly concerned him. Why hadn’t she called? Was something wrong?

“You’re changing the topic,” MJ said. “You’re—”

“MJ,” Ned said. “How about we let Peter eat his mac and cheese and he can watch me kick your ass at Mario Kart.”

MJ shot Peter once last concerned look. He turned away. “Fine,” she said. “But you’ve got it wrong. I’m going to kick  _ your _ ass.”

Peter watched the TV, but kept his phone face-up on his thigh. 

 

#

 

Morgan was supposed to call Peter. After dinner, she couldn’t imagine speaking to anyone. She couldn’t trust herself not to lash out at him—and she  _ really  _ didn’t want to lash out at him, not after verbally attacking her mom. God, she shouldn’t have done that. She knew she was in the wrong, but her pride wouldn’t let her leave the workshop to apologize. She’d just wake up early and make coffee for her mom, and all would be forgiven. 

“I don’t even know what I’m making,” she muttered. 

A part of her wanted to steal her mom’s credentials and go down to the basement, where her dad’s tech was stored, but that was a bad move with the current situation. Time traveling villains. What a fucking trip. Her whole life was a fucking trip. 

She looked down at the blowtorch in her hand. “What am I making? I’m just holding this fucking blowtorch, God. Can I have some help?” 

She got nothing from FRIDAY. She realized that her music wasn’t playing. 

“FRIDAY?” she called. 

Her thudding heart was the only sound.

“FRIDAY, talk to me.” She opened up the security feeds, and her breath hitched.

No footage. The security cameras  _ never  _ stopped recording.

“Boss.” FRIDAY’s voice glitched, a garbled sound coming through the speakers. “Boss, I can’t—I’m compromised—someone’s in the tower, life signals indicate—” 

Then, the lights went out.

“Oh, God. Emergency lights, FRI.” Nothing. Morgan remembered she didn’t have FRIDAY’s help. She was alone. “Fuck, fuck,  _ fuck _ .” 

She turned on her phone flashlight and grappled on the table for the Rescue nanite housing unit. Her fingers wrapped around the bracelet. Before she put it on, green light blasted her off her feet. She flew back and slammed against the case holding the Iron Man armor. Six glowing green circles reflected off the glass, the only light in the room. Morgan struggled to her knees, gasping.  _ Fuck.  _ She really should’ve called Peter. She slipped the bracelet over her wrist and secured it. Nanites crawled over her body, encasing her in metal. Blood dribbled from her nose as she stepped to her feet, but she didn’t wipe it away. The mask closed around her face. She clenched her fists at her side as night vision kicked in. 

_ You can do this _ , she told herself. Her injured side protested.  _ You got this.  _

Three figures, all clad in black and silver suits, stood near the workshop’s entrance, their glowing green eyes cutting into her. 

“Give us the Stark tech,” the center man said. “We didn’t come here to hurt you.

“Buddy, I won’t be the one getting hurt,” Morgan said. “Who’s who?” She pointed at the man on the far right. “I think you’re Hammer. Yeah, you’re definitely Hammer. That makes you Toomes.” She moved on to the center man. “Fuck you, by the way, for dropping a building on my brother. Don’t appreciate that. Who are you, though?”

The man on the right end remained silent. Was he Killian’s associate? She thought he was skinnier—this guy was solid. He raised his hand. 

He fired a blast at her.

Morgan rocketed away, crashing against a shelf as she dodged the energy beam. Priority one—protect her dad’s tech. Priority two—get them out of their house. Priority three—capture them, preferably with some flair. That would show the Avengers. 

“You there, FRI?” Morgan said. She dodged another blast and fired two of her own. 

“Ready to go, Boss,” FRIDAY said.

“Atta girl. I know you’re not connected to the house, but I need to get the emergency windows open to drive them out. How are we gonna do that?”

“There are levers to manually open the windows.”

“Let’s see what we can do, then.” 

Morgan hugged the walls and flew behind the suits, then crouched down. She’d imagined tiny levers, yet these were each about four feet long, two feet around. Morgan shook out her hands. More armor padded her wrists. She grabbed the lever and yanked it back. The emergency windows she’d installed in the workshop groaned and lifted. Moonlight poured into the workshop, creating shadows and slivers of silver light that illuminated fractured glass. She crept around the corner. The workshop was empty. Where’d they go?

“You can’t get to his tech,” she shouted. “It’s just me.”

And—she figured it was karma—one of them knocked her on her ass. Hammer. 

“See your dad built new suits.” Hammer kicked her chest plate. “Because I hacked the old ones, eh? Those became  _ my  _ suits.” 

“You’re a goddamn footnote in his story. Who gives a fuck about you?” Morgan raised her hand and blasted him back. He stumbled. 

Good. Her tech was stronger. She fired again. Again. Again. He stumbled toward the window. She activated the wide range of floating blasters from her back and directed all power at him. God, the suit was intuitive. No wonder her dad became addicted to this. 

“So, what’s the move? Attack me one by one while the others try to find the tech? Yeah, super great plan.” She blasted the repulsors off his ankle and wrist. He grimaced and flew toward the window, the arm and leg with deadened blasters dangling uselessly. “Bye!”

“Anyone ever teach you not to talk in a fight?” a man said.

The Vulture. 

“Not my brother. Remember him?” Long blasters raised from her back and focused on the Vulture. Before he could reply, Morgan focused all the energy on him and advanced. He growled and swiped his glowing green hand through the energy, then blasted Morgan’s mask off. Her loose hair fell into her eyes.

“New mask, FRI, then we go,” Morgan said. 

The mask covered her face.

Go time. 

They traded blows. Block. Punch. Kick. Block. Take a hit. Block again. She hated defensive fighting, would rather be attacking. Attacking always felt better. She reared away from Toomes, staying in the air, then turned her feet toward him. Stomach facing the ceiling, she soared forward and slammed her heels against his suit’s power source. He shouted and hit his fit against the suit, then grimaced. 

He shot out the window, following Hammer. 

Two down. A grin crept over her face.  _ This _ was it. Was this what her dad loved?

“Your allies are gone,” she called. “Your allies, the  _ actual  _ bad guys. Want to come and play, Mr.  _ Associate _ ? Let’s go.” 

“Associate?” The man’s voice was gruff. He stepped toward Morgan, hands resting on his hips. “Where did you get your information, Morgan?” 

“You know my name.”

“I do. I know a lot of things.” His words dripped contempt, almost oily. “Why don’t we have a chat? Wouldn’t that be nice?”

“Who are you?”

He removed his mask. Morgan recoiled. It wasn’t an associate of Killian’s, like Peter and everyone else said. Not at all.

The man grinned. “Even in death, Tony managed to give me one last golden egg.”

It was Obadiah Stane. 

 

#

 

Peter put down his phone and leaned his elbows on the kitchen counter.

“Morgan isn’t answering the phone,” he said. 

“She could be sleeping,” Ned said. “Time traveling is exhausting, I bet.”

MJ shook her head. “It’s not even midnight. Girl doesn’t go to bed until at least two.”

Peter jogged to the bedroom and grabbed an earpiece. “Hey, Karen,” he said as he went back to the kitchen. “Connect to FRIDAY. Emergency protocol.”

“I’m sorry, Peter,” Karen replied. “I can’t reach FRIDAY.”

“You can’t—okay. Guys, I gotta get over there.” Peter ran his hand through his hair.

“Anything we can do?” MJ asked. 

“I don’t know. I shouldn’t have left her. She was upset, and the whole tech situation, and—” He shook his head, cutting himself off. “I’ll be home eventually. Maybe.”

He was grateful when neither MJ nor Ned argued.

 

#

 

“Everything comes full circle, doesn’t it?” Stane grinned as he approached. Morgan stepped back, her fists clenched at her sides. “God, you look just like him, too. Your eyes, God. Those are Tony’s eyes.”

“Don’t talk about my dad,” Morgan said quietly. 

“ _ My dad _ .” Stane chuckled. “God, I never imagined Tony could be a dad. A father, maybe, with his tendencies, but not a  _ dad.  _ Time travel opens the eyes.” 

“I swear to God, Stane, don’t  _ talk  _ about him.” Morgan powered up a blaster and pointed it at Stane, but his smile only grew. 

“You’re feisty like him,” he said. “I like that. And look at what he created with this workshop. A fraction of this, Miss Morgan Stark, and I can change the world. I can have my second chance right here in the future.” 

“You don’t fucking deserve a second chance.”

“It’s not about merit. Not at all. You should know that.  _ You _ , I bet, would say that your dad didn’t deserve to die. Me, on the other hand, I would say death has been chasing Tony Stark for a long, long time and it finally won the race.”

Morgan flipped the mask over her face. 

Fuck her priorities. She would capture Stane, and he’d pay. 

“You think you can fight me?” Stane’s mask covered his face, and when he raised his fists, glowing green energy surrounded them. “You think you can win?” He shot two blasts at her. She dodged one. The other caught her shoulder. “You’re untested. I can tell that now.” 

“And you,” she said, “are a bastard.” She aimed the repulsors at his chest. Priority three became priority one. “All energy to the blasters, FRI.” A steady beam of energy slammed against his chest. He shouted and covered his face with his arm, trying to move closer. Morgan increased power. Her heart thumped joyously in her chest. God, she could do this all day. Her suit was strong. Nothing Stane had could beat this. Stane couldn’t beat  _ her.  _ How would the Avengers react when they found out  _ she  _ cracked the case they’d been trying to solve? She imagined Peter’s grin, her mother’s slightly upturned lips, Rhodey’s and Happy’s gruff yet proud expressions. 

“You can’t win,” Stane snarled.

He shouted and countered her energy beam with his own. He advanced, glowing green eyes fixed on her, then shot her hand. Pain exploded through her wrist. She cried out. She moved her other hand to shoot. Stane surged forward. His fist collided with her face. She raised her arm again. He knocked it back, then pushed her to the ground. Her head slammed against concrete; her mask flipped opened. She gasped, trying to catch her breath. Obadiah crushed his foot against her chest and unmasked himself. 

“They call you Tony’s legacy, right?” He raised his palm, green already gathering. “Look at how easily you’ll be erased.” 

Morgan closed her eyes, turning her head away. Shit. She was going to die. This was it. She was letting her mom down, letting Peter down. They would find her body. They would have to bury her. Would they put her next to her dad?

“Hey!” someone shouted.

She opened her eyes.  _ Peter.  _

He exploded through the window and kicked Stane in the head, stealth suit like liquid ink in the moonlight. Stane’s mask covered his face, and he blasted past Peter out the window, after Hammer and Toomes. Morgan sat up, cradling her hand to her chest. Peter stared after Stane, but when Morgan groaned, he turned to her. 

“What were you  _ thinking _ ?” Peter said, his mask fading away. 

“Obadiah Stane,” she gasped. “The people who want the tech, the third guy isn’t a Killian associate. It’s Obadiah Stane. He wants my dad’s tech.”

Peter exhaled. “Morgan—”

“Don’t  _ Morgan  _ me. You told me Stane was dangerous.”

“I know, I know, Jesus. You terrified me, and when you didn’t answer my calls, I thought the worst, and thank God I did because…” He waved his hand. “Never mind. We’re gonna go secure the tower, and then I’ll call a team meeting. Stane.” He shook his head. “Go check your penthouse. I don’t think there’s anything there, I poked my head in. I think Pepper is in bed. I’ll get FRIDAY back online and do a full sweep.”

She nodded. No use arguing with Peter while he was in superhero mode. In the elevator, she dissolved the suit back into nanites, then tied her hair into a semi-decent ponytail and wiped the sweat and blood from her face. Hopefully she didn’t bruise. 

The penthouse was silent, the lights dimmed. She walked into the living room, thumbs hooked in the back pockets of her jeans. Her mom’s book laid sprawled open on the couch next to a half-full coffee mug. She’d gone out with May earlier, but she must have come back to read. 

“Mom?” she called. “Mom, are you in bed?”

Silence. Her bedroom door, though, was open. 

“Okay, are you making a snack?” Her other hand hovered over the bracelet as she approached the kitchen island. “Mom? Hello?”

Her breath caught.

Bare feet stuck out from behind the island. 

Morgan cried out. Her mom laid sprawled on the floor, eyes closed and blood pouring from her head. Red haloed around her, staining the cream-colored carpet and framing her pale face. Morgan held her hands over her mouth, willing herself not to puke. 

“Mom,” she whispered. Her voice sounded light years away. 

Nothing. Not even a flinch. Was her chest moving? 

“Mom,” she tried again.

Quiet.

She dropped to her knees and cried out. 

“Mom? Hey, Mom. Mom.” She tapped her mom’s bloodied face. Her head lolled to the side, lips parted slightly. Morgan gasped, tears rolling down her cheeks. “Mom.  _ Mom _ . Mommy, Mommy, please, please,  _ please. _ Wake up. Mommy, please.” She kept babbling, kept touching her mom’s face, pushing her hair from her eyes. Maybe then she’d open them.  _ Orphan _ , her brain provided.  _ Orphan, orphan, orphan.  _ Their last conversation was a fight. 

Someone called her name. 

Strong hands pulled her away. 

“Stand over there for me, Morgan.” Peter guided her to the edge of the kitchen, then knelt by her mom. “I’m going to help her. Everything will be okay. Okay?”

Morgan tipped her head against the wall and sobbed. Her chest hurt. Her hand hurt. Her side hurt. Everything  _ fucking  _ hurt. How had she believed herself capable of being a hero? She wasn’t her dad, wasn’t her mom, wasn’t anything but a stupid kid. 

“Morgan, hey.” Peter smiled and tucker her hair behind her ears. 

“She’s dead,” Morgan whispered. “Isn’t she?”

“Honey.” 

Morgan froze at the third voice, then pushed past Peter. Her mom sat on the kitchen floor, pale face streaked with blood, but eyes open. Morgan couldn’t stop her lower lip from trembling as she knelt next to her. Her mom smiled weakly.

“Takes more than a knock on the head to take me out,” she whispered. 

Morgan threw herself into her mom’s arms. Pepper made a surprised noise, but Morgan held tighter, burying her face in the crook of her neck. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I’m so sorry.”

Her mom stroked her fingers through Morgan’s hair. “It’s okay, sweetheart. It’s all okay, now. We’re okay. You’re safe.”

Morgan allowed herself to melt into her mom’s arms. 

 

#

 

At three in the morning, Morgan found herself on the rooftop. 

She’d helped her mom get to bed, promising to wake her every few hours due to the concussion, then cleaned the workshop for something to do. Peter stayed—thankfully, he didn’t call the Avengers, saying he’d do that in the morning. When he went to call MJ, letting her know he’d be at the tower for the night, she took the elevator to the roof. She looked out at the city skyline, wondering what it would be like to fly and weave among the buildings, to be seen as a hero.  _ You’re not a hero _ , her brain provided.  _ You wanted to capture him for your ego.  _

She rested her head in her hands and sighed. 

“Yeah, I feel that in my soul.” Peter sat down next to her. The bags under his eyes were heavy, his face pale and drawn. “What a night.” 

She leaned her head on his shoulder and immediately felt years younger. Peter was always there when she needed him—she needed him more often than she wanted to admit. She had for as long as she could remember. He was there when she was five years old and desperately missing her father. When she was six and wanted to get into the workshop, he helped her learn how to use the tools. When she was ten and desperately wished her dad could come to father-daughter lunches at her school, he came, despite only being in college. When she was thirteen and feeling isolated from the rest of the world, he introduced her to the Bartons, to Cassie Lang, to Shuri and Harley Keener. He brought her into their circle. What had she ever done for him?

“I feel like I fucked up,” she murmured. 

“I won’t lie, you did. Just a little. But that’s okay. I messed up so many times on the path to whatever I am today. Did I tell you I pretty much single-handedly split a ferry in half and your dad had to save my ass?” He chuckled. “He took my suit away and told me, basically, to get my head on straight. I took it to heart.”

A tear rolled down her cheek. Everyone had a personal story like that about her dad—a time where he saved them, a time where he set them straight, a time where he treated them like the most important person in the universe. Everyone but her. Even after time traveling, everyone but her had a story. 

“I’ve been thinking,” she said. “Time travel wasn’t enough, right?” 

Peter shuddered. “Morgan, please don’t make me…” He looked away from her. “No.”

“I know. And this problem with people coming back to steal his tech.”  _ And his legacy,  _ she added in her head. “You don’t think it will solve itself, will it?”

“No.”

“I think there’s only one person who knows what we need to stop them.”

“Who?”

“My dad.” 

Peter pressed his hand to his mouth. Not quick enough—she saw his quivering lip. 

“We need to talk to Strange. I’ve heard him talk about an afterlife, or at least a dimension where souls reside. We could get to him, we could—”

“Why are you doing this?” Peter whispered. “Why? I mourned him. I moved on.”

Morgan met his gaze, lifting her chin. “Did you? Have you told MJ you love her?”

Peter quieted. 

“It’s about the tech situation, sure, but Peter, I never got anything. I only got stories and other people’s memories and moments. I don’t remember him, and I want something. I need to know if I’m good enough.”

_ If I was worth it.  _

Because she’d laid awake night after night, wondering. Her mom and Rhodey and every Avenger said he did it for her. Was she worth the sacrifice? What if he believed she wasn’t good enough. She needed to prove that she, as someone with his blood and his name, was worth losing Earth’s greatest defender, as Steve Rogers once called him. 

She needed him to say that she was a hero in her own right. 

“We could see him,” she said. “He would know us. Don’t you want to look into his eyes and know that he knows you?”

It was almost cruel to say that.

She knew he wanted that more than anything. 

“If we do this,” he began slowly, “you have to tell Pepper. That’s my only condition.” 

“Okay.” It wasn’t ideal, but Morgan could work with it. “We’ll talk to Strange tomorrow.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Our final villain arrives :)
> 
> Thank you guys, as always, for reading!! I checked my subscription numbers and damn, there are a lot of you guys subscribed!! I appreciate that more than anyone could know <3


	8. shoreline

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Morgan and Peter put a new plan into action.

Peter got about three hours of sleep before the Avengers arrived in the tower, which was nowhere  _ near  _ enough sleep to deal with the current situation. He made a pot of coffee and didn’t bother pouring it into a mug  before going into the conference room—he’d drink it straight from the pot. God, he wanted to sleep more. He wanted to forget about Obadiah  _ fucking  _ Stane. 

But there was work to be done. 

He took stock of the room as he walked in. Pepper, her head bandaged, and Rhodey sat at the head of the table. Morgan gave him a small wave from the corner armchair. Sam, Bucky, Scott, Hope, and Strange occupied the other chairs. Strange narrowed his eyes at the full coffee pot. Peter narrowed his right back. Strange looked away. 

“Last night, the people looking for the Stark tech broke into the penthouse and the workhouse,” Peter said without preamble. “Morgan wore the Rescue armor and fought them off.”

Scott grinned. “Atta girl, Morgan.” 

“We confirmed identities for Adrian Toomes and Justin Hammer, but the third man isn’t an associate of Killian’s.” Peter swallowed hard, looking to Pepper and Rhodey. He should’ve told them before. They deserved to know. “It was Obadiah Stane.”

Pepper gasped. Rhodey swore quietly, running a hand over his head. 

“Hope and Scott, I need you to confirm this on your side, but I think Stane came from 2008, while he was still planning to have Tony kidnapped.”

“You got it, boss,” Hope said. 

“When we apprehend him, he has to live. He’s essential to this particular timeline. If Tony doesn’t fight Iron Monger…”

“He never becomes Iron Man publicly,” Pepper finished.

Peter met her solemn gaze. “Exactly. His memory needs to be wiped and he needs to be returned to his time. I don’t want to chance alternate universes. Strange?”

Strange nodded, not looking at Peter. He  _ never  _ looked at Peter, but Peter couldn’t focus on that now. It was nothing new. 

“Good. Here’s what I’m thinking. Scott and Hope, you’re on pinpointing Stane’s point of exit from his timeline, same with Hammer and Toomes so we can set them back. Wilson, Barnes, you guys need to track them down as best as you can. Figure out what their next move is and how we can get ahead and control it. Pepper and Rhodey, I need you to index Tony’s tech again. We need to know what they’ll target so we can protect it. Strange, you’re on standby until the fight comes, then we’ll need you on memory erasing duties. Everyone got it? This is our priority. Looking at you, Wilson.”

“Hey, man, I’m nothing but loyal.” Sam grinned and clapped Peter on the shoulder as he left the room; Bucky followed close behind and smiled knowingly. 

“We’ll keep you in the loop, Peter,” Hope said. 

Scott nudged his side. “Ditto.”

Pepper approached him, her brow furrowed. “Is it really Obie?” she whispered. “Morgan, last night, she didn’t say…”

“She was afraid for you,” Peter said quietly. “And then I told her to wait. My fault. But yeah. It really is Stane. I’m really sorry, I know he—”

“I want to kill him all over again, the bastard. God. Get in a good punch for me Peter.” 

She walked out the room, head held high, but if Peter knew her, she was probably heading to her bedroom to cry. Obadiah Stane was always a weak point for her; he remembered her tears as she told him about Stane a decade ago, how she said she was glad he was dead for everything he’d done to Tony. Now, judging from the pinched expression on Rhodey’s face, he was remembering something similar. 

“We’re gonna get him, Rhodey,” Peter said. “I’ll make sure of it. I know… I know what he did to Tony. I won’t let Stane hurt him again, I can promise you that.” 

Rhodey smiled softly. “You’re doing a good job, kid,” he said. “Truly. You sound like him, even. A little bit more official and Captain America-y, but a lot like him.”

“Is it enough?”

“Yes.” Rhodey gripped his shoulder. “Unequivocally. You’re a leader, Peter. Pepper and I will get you the info you need.” 

Rhodey left, leaving Peter alone in the room with Morgan and Strange. Morgan met Peter’s eye and arched an eyebrow as Strange made to get up. Peter shut the door and stepped in front of it, blocking Strange’s path. Strange sighed and sat down again.

“Always so dramatic,” he said. 

“Dramatic always was the move with you,” Peter replied. “It’s what you respond to.”

Strange scoffed. 

“You do wear a cloak,” Morgan said.

He gave her a tight smile. “It’s a very helpful cloak.”

“We never thanked you for your help in New York.” Peter sat down across from him.  _ Look me in the eye,  _ he thought.  _ Look at me.  _ “We appreciate it.”

“You didn’t leave me much of an option. Time travel.” Strange shook his head. “You should know better than that. Why would you even—”

“Hey, you don’t get to drill him.” Morgan slid into the chair next to Peter and glared at Strange. “I was super involved in this, too. My idea.” 

“Well, it was a bad idea.” 

“You flatter me, Stephen. It was a  _ terrible _ idea, and I have one that’s even worse.”

He frowned. “Of course you do, Miss  _ Stark. _ ”

Even Peter knew he only called her that when she was being insufferable. Morgan didn’t flinch. “When we last chatted about the afterlife, you told me about a dimension where souls went after we left Earth. Peter and I want to visit and see my dad.” 

“Funny,” Strange said. “No.” 

Morgan furrowed her brow. “It’s not a—”

“Not a joke, no, but it should be. You aren’t visiting the afterlife.”

“Stephen, I—”

“You are  _ not  _ visiting the dimension where souls reside. I shouldn’t have to—” 

Peter held up his hand. “Morgan, you still need to clean up the workshop, right?”

She rolled her eyes. “I don’t want to—”

“Why don’t you go to the  _ workshop _ , and I’ll talk to Stephen.” 

“You know what? Why not? Good luck.” 

As soon as she left the room, Strange’s gaze turned to the table and his hands. Peter couldn’t be bitter, though. Not right now. He had to ignore Strange’s negligence. For Tony. 

“You know, she kicked ass last night.” Peter stood and began to pace. “I think she’ll suit up soon enough, which terrifies me, but hey, she’s a Stark, for better or for worse.”

Strange didn’t reply. 

“She has a lot of anger in her, but a lot of empathy, too. She wants to help the world, and she wants to know how to do it. More than anything, though, she wants to know her dad. I know that, and I know  _ you  _ know that. Time travel wasn’t enough. If you help us, we could visit him in the afterlife. She could be at peace and be ready to be a hero in her own right. And me…” He swallowed hard. “I, uh, I really want to see him, too.” 

Nothing. 

“Okay.” Peter slammed his hands against the table. Strange didn’t move. “I’m done with this. You watch over my life, but you won’t even look at me. You won’t acknowledge what we went through together, you won’t acknowledge how you saved me. I need an explanation. What did I do? Do you even remember anything about what happened twelve years ago? About me?”

“I remember,” Strange said quietly. “I remember you on the trip to Titan. I remember how joyful you were. I remember that you hung onto Stark’s every word and lit up when he looked at you. I remember that you loved him. I remember your first words after we returned from the dead. You asked me if Tony was okay. I brought you to the battle even though I knew what would happen. I remember seeing a million different realities and then teleporting to the top of a skyscraper to find you sobbing and suicidal. I remember not sleeping because I was scared it would happen again. So yeah, I remember.”

“And yet,” Peter said, “you avoided me for twelve years.”

A tear rolled down Strange’s cheek. He wiped it away, his scarred hands shaking.

_ Not  _ what Peter expected.

“Stephen,” he said. “Please. I need to know why.” 

For the first time in over a decade, Stephen Strange met his eyes. 

“Before I’m anything else, I’m a doctor,” Strange said. “When I was still operating, I took on the most challenging cases because I knew nobody else could save those people. My own ego, too, but mostly the former. I couldn’t save Tony Stark. I’d never seen someone with so much love in their heart, and I was sending him to his death.”

“You knew everything as soon as you gave up the stone.”

“I saw him die. I saw you, Morgan, Pepper grieve. I knew the… particular misery that laid ahead for you.” Strange suddenly seemed older than his actual age. “I knew how many times you would have to choose to live instead of die and thought, dear  _ God _ , nobody can choose life that many times.”

“So you…”  

“It wasn’t you, Peter. Only me. I couldn’t take another loss.” He wiped away more tears, his lips quivering. “I agonized. I wondered if there was a way to save him, some oversight or other timeline…”

“But there was only one,” Peter whispered. 

“One.” Strange held up a trembling finger. “One way, one person with the will to wield it.” 

Peter blinked back tears. “You know, after, I asked myself the same questions. Out of every person on that battlefield, why did it have to be  _ him _ ?”

“I can’t answer that.” He chuckled humorlessly. “I’ve tried. All I can say is that he was the strongest of us all, and he saved our reality, but at what cost? Questions for questions.” His gaze pierced Peter. “You want to visit him.”

“I do.”

“In the afterlife. With Morgan.”

“Yes.” 

“It isn’t an easy thing to do. I would have to send part of your souls to the afterlife temporarily while keeping you two tethered to this world with my own power. It would require a substantial amount of energy from each of us, and with the current technology situation…” 

“I need to,” Peter said quietly. “I need to know what he would do against each of these guys. I need to have a strategy. I need…”

_ I need to hear him say he believes in me.  _

“You need him.” Strange stood. His cloak flew from the corner and settled around his shoulders. “We’ll do it at the Sanctum, tomorrow morning. You and Morgan will listen to me and follow my instructions exactly. You will be tethered to me, but if you have loved ones present, it would be most helpful. There are risks, but with my skills and a little luck, it’ll be quick and easy.”

“So you’ll help us?” Peter asked.

Strange paused at the door and looked over his shoulder, smirking slightly. “I’ll get you to and from the afterlife. Whatever it takes.”

 

#

Morgan was sweeping when the elevator doors in the workshop opened. 

Her broom clattered to the floor as Peter, his expression stoic, stepped toward her. “What did he say?” she asked. “Peter, tell me what he said.”

“He said there were risks,” Peter said. “He said we should have loved ones present, and that we’d be tethered to him. Basically, Morgan, we need to be sure.”

She gasped. “He said yes.”

A wavering smile crept across his face. “Yeah.”

She laughed and threw herself into Peter’s arms. He wrapped his arms around her tight, and for a moment, despite everything, she felt untouchable, like she could take on the world and it would bend to her whim. God, what a feeling it was. She couldn’t wait to tell her dad about it.

“You need to tell your mom,” Peter said into her shoulder. 

“Yeah, yeah, I’ll talk to Mom tonight.” She laughed again and pulled away so she could grin at Peter. “We’re going to see Dad. We’re really going to see him, and he’ll  _ know _ us.”

“Yeah.” Peter’s smile matched hers. “Yeah, he will.”

 

#

 

Pepper spent most of the day in bed. 

She didn’t like doing that. It reminded her of the weeks after Tony died, when depression enveloped everything she did. Every few hours, she tried to rouse herself, but she couldn’t find the strength. Showering or cooking something small seemed like a Herculean effort. Rhodey called, but she sent him to voicemail and told FRIDAY to reroute any calls. She needed to see Morgan, especially after last night. Not like this. Not when she could only think of Obadiah.

She curled onto her side.  _ Obadiah.  _ No matter how she spun it, Obadiah was the beginning of Tony’s story, even the beginning of  _ her _ story. He was the first man she killed. He was the first man who wanted to kill her. She hated him. She hated what he did to Tony; she hated how he’d groomed Tony and smothered his best qualities. She wondered, sometimes, what they would’ve been without Obadiah. She wanted to kill him again. She wanted to throw something. She wanted to scream. 

Yet more than anything, she wanted someone to take care of her. Even thinking it felt ridiculous. She was a grown woman, a CEO. That never stopped Tony, though. He always knew what she needed. Always. He would hold her and whisper in her ear until she laughed, his beard tickling her face. His lips would brush against her forehead, her cheek, her jaw, until he reached her lips. He smiled as he kissed her. He made her feel safe, loved. 

Now, she was alone. The bed was cold without him, and in twelve years, she had never found a way to make it seem warm. 

“Pepper,” FRIDAY said. “Morgan is cooking dinner.” 

Pepper sat up in bed. “She’s what?”

“Morgan is currently in the kitchen attempting to cook dinner.” 

“Oh, my.” She pulled her hair into a ponytail and quickly changed into fresh leggings and a t-shirt. One of Tony’s. She didn’t realize until it was on, but it was too late to change. She smoothed out the t-shirt and went out into the kitchen. “Morgan?”

“Mom!” Morgan poked at something in a saucepan on the stove, but looked over her shoulder to grin at her. “Good to see you up.”

“What are you doing?” Pepper asked. Morgan  _ never  _ cooked. As smart and stubborn as she was, food never submitted to her will—perhaps because she  _ subjected _ it to her will. 

“Well, I was cleaning up the workshop because I kinda trashed it when I was kicking Obadiah Stane’s ass and I found this old book with recipes in it. I think it was Dad’s, because it was  _ covered  _ in his notes. I looked through it and saw this recipe for ricotta gnocchi with spinach and gorgonzola. Dad’s notes said that I had to make my own gnocchi or Grandma Stark would haunt me, but I figured I’d chance it. Happy brought me the ingredients.”

Pepper exhaled. Shit, her head hurt. “But why are you cooking?”

Morgan shrugged. “So you didn’t have to.”

“Oh.” She sat on a stool and watched her daughter cook dinner. It was painful, really. Wherever Morgan went, a mess appeared moments later. Pots, pans, spoons, dishes. Everything built up in the sink. Yet after a few minutes, two plates of ricotta gnocchi with spinach and gorgonzola were on the table—Pepper had to admit, it looked and tasted incredible. 

“Not bad for a first attempt, right?” Morgan grinned, spinach stuck in her teeth. “I need to make a bunch of these recipes.” 

Pepper made a noncommittal noise. She knew how that went—Tony once said he needed to cook more. It only happened once they moved out to the lake, but even then, she cooked and he did dishes most nights. Morgan was a genius. She’d leave her eventually, too. 

Morgan pushed her plate away once it was clean. She didn’t meet Pepper’s eye as she tucked her hair behind both ears. “Okay,” Morgan said. “I need to tell you some things.”

“Such as…” Pepper prompted.

“Give me a moment.”

Oh, God. Was it serious? Had the fight been worse than Morgan admitted? Had Obadiah hurt her? “Sweetheart, you can tell me anything,” she said. 

Morgan scrunched her eyes shut. “Peter and I went time traveling to see Dad and we went to, like, before he was Iron Man and the Battle of New York and when Peter was a teenager and when I was a kid, and Scott and Hope helped us, but both of us are really sad that he didn’t recognize us so we talked to Stephen and he said we could visit Dad in the afterlife so now we want to go because he’ll recognize us there but Peter said I need to tell you, so I’m telling you.” She opened her eyes and exhaled. “Whoa.”

Pepper’s head pounded. “Okay,” she said. “Just so I know I got all that. You and Peter time traveled to different points in your dad’s life without telling me. Scott and Hope helped you. Now, you want to go to the  _ afterlife _ to talk to your dad.”

_ You’ll never be enough for them _ , a small voice in Pepper’s head provided.  _ Never.  _

“Yeah,” Morgan said. “That’s about it. We could ask him about the weapons problem.”

“You didn’t think to tell me?”

“I didn’t think you’d let me.”

“Who knew?”

“Peter, obviously.”

She was going to kill Peter Parker, damn Tony’s legacy. “Who else?”

“Scott, Hope, and Cassie. I think Peter told MJ and May. But don’t blame them. I swore them to secrecy because… because I didn’t want you to worry.”

“You didn’t want me to interfere”

“I’m sorry,” Morgan said. “But the afterlife….”

“No,” Pepper said. “Absolutely not.”

“Why not?”

Something in her snapped. “Because I said so. Dammit, Morgan, I said so, I said so, I said  _ so _ !” Her chest heaved as she stared at Morgan, whose jaw was set defiantly. “It’s bad enough that you time traveled without telling me, but you’re not going to the afterlife.”

“But that’s—”

“Perfectly reasonable! Baby, do you know how dangerous that is?”

“But Stephen will help us, we’re going to the Sanctum and—”

“No.”

“You don’t want me to know him!” Morgan stood, fists clenched at her side. “You and everyone else only told me the big things. The happy things. I didn’t know that he was an asshole before he was Iron Man or a playboy. I didn’t know his favorite songs or what he was like when he was in his workshop. I didn’t know how much he loved Peter and how terrified he got when he was hurt, or how he had a panic attack because I threw dirt in his face when I was a kid.” Her lip trembled. “Do you know how much it hurt to have him look at me and not know my face? I want him to see me, Mom. To really see me.”

Morgan—” Pepper said. 

“Do you not want? Is it because you know I’m not good enough for him?”

“That’s not it, Morgan—”

“No? Because it feels like it. I don’t know him, and that’s on you.” She stormed to the elevator without looking back. Pepper let her go.

“Shit,” Pepper murmured. “ _ Shit _ .” 

She tried to feel surprised. Angry. Maybe even betrayed. Yet somehow, she only felt resigned. She knew this would happen. She’d known since the day Tony died, since the day she told Morgan that her dad wasn’t coming home, since Morgan spent the week after his death asking  _ Where’s Daddy?  _ every hour. She wasn’t enough for her daughter. She was Pepper Potts-Stark, yes, but she would never be Tony Stark. 

“Should I lock down the tower?” FRIDAY asked gently, with more emotion than an AI should ever have.

“Do whatever you think is best,” Pepper said.

Morgan would go with or without her permission. 

 

#

 

The next morning, Peter woke before the sun rose, curled into MJ’s side. 

He pulled back slightly to look at her. Even in sleep, she furrowed her brow. Her curls poked out at every angle. One fell over her cheek and nose. A lump rose in his throat the longer he looked; he could barely believe that he got to sleep beside her every night. That was true privilege. Despite the anxiety pooled in his gut, he smiled to himself. 

She shifted, eyes fluttering open. “Hi,” she murmured.

“Hey,” he whispered. “I have to go somewhere.” 

“‘Vengers?” 

He chuckled. “Yeah.”

“It’s dark outside.”

“I know, I know.”

“Stay and sleep.”

“I can’t.” 

“Mmmm.” She bumped her head against his chest. “Home for dinner?”

“Making something special?”

“Nope. Wanna see you.”

His smile fell. He needed to tell her. He  _ had  _ to tell her. Going to the afterlife was more dangerous than time travel. She deserved to know, but she seemed so tired…

“I’ll be there,” he said.

He pressed his lips to her forehead and pulled the covers over her, then got dressed. Instead of swinging, he walked to the Sanctum, early morning wind snipping at his face. He tucked his hands in his pocket and glanced up at the buildings. A week before Titan, he and Tony took an early morning trip through New York, him flying the Iron Man suit and Peter swinging behind him with comms to connect them. He remembered Tony’s buoyant laughter as he shot across the sky, a brilliant streak of red and gold. 

“I’m gonna live forever, Pete,” Tony had said. “Just like this.”

Peter exhaled.  _ See you soon, Mr. Stark.  _

He knocked on the Sanctum’s door. Strange answered, his cape over his pajamas.

“You’re early,” Strange said.

“Couldn’t sleep,” Peter replied. 

“Well, I know you didn’t eat, either.” The cloak swished as Strange turned on his heel. “You aren’t doing this on an empty stomach.”

Peter found himself at Strange’s kitchen table, watching the clock as Strange scrambled eggs. Morgan would be there at eight. Two and a half hours. 

Strange set a plate of eggs and a fork in front of Peter, then sat across from him. He didn’t speak. Once Peter finished the first plate, Strange wordlessly made him another. The silence wasn’t suffocating, only understanding and peaceful. 

Hours passed. 

It was ten past eight.

“She’s never late.” The first words Peter said since he arrived. “Never.”

Strange cocked an eyebrow. In the distance, the Sanctum doors slammed open and footsteps pounded against the floor. Morgan rushed into the kitchen, chest rising and falling rapidly. “Sorry, sorry,” she said. “I know I’m late.”

Peter stared. Instead of a messy braid or ponytail, Morgan’s hair fell loosely over her shoulders and down her back. She’d smudged a little bit of gloss over her lips and wore a white button-down and loose pink skirt. His breath hitched. The glass orb with a shrapnel fragment hung around her neck, resting on her chest. 

Morgan flushed. “Please don’t say anything.” 

“I think you look beautiful,” Peter said. “Absolutely, uh, beautiful.” His voice caught in the back of his throat as she smiled at him, eyes watery. 

“Shall we do this?” Strange said. 

“Where’s Pepper?” Peter asked.

“Where’s MJ?” she countered. He bowed his head. “Mom knows, don’t worry.”

“Good enough for me.” Strange motioned for them to follow.

He led them through winding hallways and stopped in front of a closed door. After unlocking it, brought them into a room empty save for two cots with white sheets. Peter stepped toward the sprawling windows, toward the orange and pink light spilling in from the sunrise.  

“Here’s how this works,” Strange said. “To do this, I have to separate most of your soul from your body. ”

“Most?” Morgan echoed. 

“Most. Souls are complicated. They aren’t one whole unit. There are threads that mirror the Infinity Stones. Time, space, soul—”

Morgan cocked her head. “The soul of a soul?”

“ _ Reality _ , power, and mind,” Strange finished. “I take every thread except the soul of your soul and send them onto the afterlife. The soul of your soul remains here, in your body, and when you are ready to return, I’ll weave the entire being back together. I’ll pull on the entire thing to bring you back. You may experience chest pain afterwards.”

Unthinkingly, Peter touched his hand to his heart. 

“Just know, it’s easy to become lost in that dimension. If you stay too long, the threads I need to pull you back will become frayed. I also need your consent to bring you back. Complicated magic things. This would be much easier with loved ones, but…” Strange shrugged. “Do you understand?”

“Yes,” Morgan said. 

Peter nodded. “Yes.”

Strange smiled, softer than his usual smirk. “Lay down, then. No use wasting time.” 

Peter walked to his bed, as did Morgan. When he reached his bed, he met her eyes. Despite the bravado, there was fear in her gaze as she laid down and smoothed her skirt. Without saying anything, he pushed his cot next to hers, settled, and took her hand. She immediately gripped it tightly. 

“Give Stark my regards,” Strange said.

Then, Peter felt a  _ yank.  _ Morgan gasped next to him. Strange hadn’t been joking. His chest was being stretched, torn open and shredded, like a creature was trying to claw its way out. The world whooshed away, replaced by flashes of light. Red. Yellow. Orange. Blue. Purple. Green. The colors threaded together and spliced apart, wrapping around every nerve in Peter’s body and flowing into his blood, until they became something else. Voices. No— _ one  _ voice. A voice Peter knew well, even though he couldn’t make out the words. He sensed rather than saw Morgan next to him and hoped she heard it, too. Darkness enveloped him. 

Then, words flashed into existence. 

_ I shouldn’t be alive unless it was for a reason. _

_ I am Iron Man.  _

These were Tony’s words, the syllables that defined his life and legacy, Peter realized. These would guide Peter and Morgan to where they needed to be, guide them to  _ him _ .

_ It’s about legacy and what we choose to leave behind for future generations.  _

_ Save the rest for the return, J.  _

_ My name is Tony Stark, and I am not afraid of you. _

_ That up there? That’s the endgame. _

_ Because the truth is I don’t want to stop.  _

_ I wanted you to be better. _

_ Steady, Quill.  _

_ You’re all right.  _

_ I lost the kid.  _

_ And I... am Iron Man. _

_ Pep.  _

_ I love you three thousand.  _

A flash of light, then silence besides gently flowing water. No, not flowing water. Waves whispering against a shoreline. Peter was standing—standing in sand, actually, sand that was soft under his toes. They were on a beach. He flexed his fingers, then glanced next to him. A soft wind rippled over Morgan’s hair and skirt as she met his gaze, expectant, like she thought he’d have the answers as to what to do next.  _ You have too much faith in me,  _ he thought.

He looked instead toward the water.

His hair stood on end. 

Someone was looking back. 

 

#

 

On a quiet shoreline, Tony Stark looked away from the ocean.

Behind him, two unfamiliar figures stood in the distance, a woman and a man. The woman—no, she was more of a girl—was stocky and stood with a defiant posture that reminded him of Pepper. Her dark eyes pierced the fog. The man was thin but muscular; he surveyed the landscape, as Tony would have done. Curls fell into his eyes. Tony blinked. He knew those curls. He even thought he knew the girl’s eyes. 

They were his own. 

He called two names he usually never dared to say aloud. 

“Morgan? Peter?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been kind about cliffhangers -- so far. Stay tuned tomorrow for the next chapter :) As always, thank you for reading, commenting, bookmarking, subscribing, all the lovely ways people have interacted with this story <3


	9. tony

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Morgan and Peter find Tony in the afterlife. Peter makes a difficult decision.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone, before the chapter, I have a quick request. If there's something about this story you don't like or have a problem with, please don't send me long messages telling me I'm a bad writer. I've received some comments along these lines, as well as messages on tumblr. This story doesn't have a beta reader, and I wrote it largely to cope with my poor mental health after Endgame. I know there are plot holes and weak points in this story. I know there are mistakes, and I know some things don't make sense. My main focus was healing and getting some closure surroundings Tony's death, and I posted it hoping it would help others do the same. I really want to keep this a positive space for both me and the readers. If an author doesn't specifically request criticism, constructive or otherwise, don't offer it. 
> 
> That being said, this has only been a few incidents. Most of you have been lovely, and I can't thank everyone enough. There are almost a hundred people subscribed!! I hope you enjoy these last few chapters :)

“Oh, Christ,” Tony muttered to himself. 

Why were his children in the afterlife? 

A cold fear he hadn’t known since he’d been here—no, fuck that, he’d  _ never  _ known this type of fear, because his kids could be  _ dead _ —consumed him. As Morgan and Peter approached, he tried to summon a comforting smile, or at least  _ some  _ type of smile, but he could only stare. His mouth fell open. God, he knew logically that it had to happen, but they were both so grown up. Peter’s face had leaned, and his once-ropy muscles were now filled out and defined. It wasn’t just his facial features and body, though. Tony remembered Peter’s hunched way of standing, how he shifted from foot to foot with anxious energy; now, he stood in front of him with squared shoulders and his feet solid against the ground. A man. 

And then there was Morgan.

His Morgan. 

She was beautiful. Maybe he was biased, but fuck that, he was allowed to be biased. He knew her instinctively; even without memory, he would have known that this girl was his daughter. She had his eyes, his stocky frame and dark eyes, but Pepper’s facial structure and defiantly raised chin. She was smart, too—he could tell. He saw it in her eyes. 

Her lower lip trembled as she approached him. “Daddy?” she murmured. 

“Fuck.” His voice was thick. “Oh, Christ, Morgan.” 

She  _ launched  _ herself into his arms. He crushed her against his chest. She was solid in his arms. _ Real.  _ Real, real,  _ real.  _ His daughter was real, and she was here with him, and Peter… God, was Peter real too?

“Peter?” he dared to say, his chin rested on Morgan’s head. “Peter, please…” He didn’t know how to finish the sentence.  _ Please be here. Please be real.  _

Peter stepped forward. Tony blinked. How could he have thought him to be grown up? The anxious tremble hadn’t disappeared, only shifted to his hands, and his face still looked extraordinarily young. Tony cupped his hand around Peter’s cheek. Peter  _ crumpled.  _ He closed his eyes, but tears streaked his cheeks. 

“Tony…” Peter whispered.

“Come here, kid.” He pulled Peter to him, too, and held him. The three of them sank to their knees, crying and trembling and clinging to each other. Tony pressed his lips to Peter’s cheek, then Morgan’s, before gently detaching himself. 

Morgan swiped at her eyes and stared at him. “Hi,” she said.

Tony chuckled. “Hi.” 

Peter stumbled to his feet, then helped Morgan and Tony up. “We…”

“I don’t want to ruin this moment,” Tony started, “but why are you here? Are you…”  _ Dead,  _ his brain supplied.  _ Are you dead?  _

“We aren’t dead,” Peter said. “We, uh… well, what do you remember?

Tony glanced from Morgan to Peter, then back again. Upon seeing Morgan’s face, memories slammed against him like a good old-fashioned punch. He remembered a dark-haired girl yelling at him at the Stark Industries party in 2007, a silent boy at her side. Waking up in 2012 with no memory of the past fifteen hours, but a faint recollection of two important people. Seeing flashes of unfamiliar figures on the night Peter almost drowned in the gymnasium, on the anniversary of the snap during his picnic with Morgan and Pepper.

“Holy shit,” he said. “You guys went time traveling to see me. I remember now.  You yelled at me!” He pointed at Morgan—she grinned. “Who let you do that?”

Morgan’s face flushed. “I, um… kinda strong-armed everyone into helping me. I didn’t have to force Peter, though. He wanted to come and see you.” 

“But you didn’t know us,” Peter said. “That was hard. We wanted to come here, and—”

“Here?” Tony gaped. “You brought my daughter to the  _ afterlife _ ? What the hell? I can’t even threaten you properly! I can’t make you face consequences! I’m  _ dead. _ ”

A ghost of a smile came to Peter’s face. “Technically, your daughter brought herself to the afterlife.”

“Technically… did you just pull a technically on me?”

“She did! Besides, Strange helped?”

“ _ Strange _ ? The wizard?”

“He spliced our souls,” Morgan piped up. “Did you know that souls can be spliced?”

Tony gaped. His daughter was  _ snarky.  _ That was genuinely delightful. 

“We can only stay for a little bit,” Peter said quietly. “Lost souls and everything.” 

“Okay, then.” Tony clapped his hands. “What’s the plan, then? Did you come with an itinerary?”

Morgan and Peter looked at each other, eyes wide. From their deer-in-the-headlight expressions, he realized they had  _ zero _ plans besides getting to him in the first place. He smiled to himself. He wasn’t quite sure how his afterlife-body functioned, but the place where his heart belonged felt full. 

“How about this,” Tony said. “Why don’t me and you take a walk, Morgan, and when we come back, Peter and I will catch up.”

Morgan looked to Peter, brow furrowed. Peter smiled gently and tucked her hair behind her ear—Tony had never loved the kid more. A part of him wanted to ask every question that came to mind. What were their lives like? Was Peter leading the Avengers? What were Morgan’s interests? How was Pepper? He had to play it cool, though. 

“So what do you say?” he asked. 

“Go for it,” Peter said. “I know you’ve been waiting. I’ll get my time in.”

Morgan nodded, then turned back to Tony. “Yeah,” she said. “I really, really do.”

 

#

 

Morgan carried her shoes as she walked along the shore next to her dad, waves brushing her toes. She couldn’t tear her eyes away from him. He wasn’t as tall as she’d expected—she could nearly look him directly in the eye—or as muscular. Portraits and statues portrayed him as both of those, but he seemed  _ ordinary.  _

She liked that. 

_ Say something.  _ She swallowed hard. All those years spent imagining what she would say to her dad, and her words felt lodged in her throat. 

“You look so much like me,” her dad said. “I know that’s how genetics works, but Jesus. Those are my eyes in your head.” 

“Mom tells me that,” she replied.  _ Say something else.  _ She couldn’t. 

“How is Mom? Hanging in there?”

Morgan nodded.  _ She doesn’t know I’m here. _ “She’s good.”

“Good, good.” Her dad tucked his hands into his pockets. “Do you hate me?”

She stopped walking. “What?”

“Do you hate me for leaving you? Because you seem quiet, and—”

“Dad. I traveled through time and let a wizard unthread my soul or whatever to be here. I don’t hate you. This is just… overwhelming.”

“Yeah.” He ran his hand through his hair. “I understand completely. Last time I saw you, you were four. Now you’re…  _ grown _ .”

“Not completely. I didn’t change entirely, you know. Mom, Uncle Rhodey, and Uncle Happy say I’m a lot like you. Peter, too. I can put down a cheeseburger.”

He furrowed his brow. “Burger King or McDonald’s?”

“Burger King, obviously.”

“Good girl.” 

“I like ice pops. One time, I had so many that I puked. Put them down like Pac-Man does. Mom was furious. AC/DC is my favorite band. One time, I stayed in the workshop for forty-four hours straight on only coffee and day-old Taco Bell. Rhodey called me a gremlin and threatened to drug me so I slept. Peter is my favorite person. I know he was one of yours.”  

A smile crept across his face. “Yeah, he totally was.”

“He’s… I couldn’t ask for a better brother. He took care of me when I was a kid. Took me down to the workshop for the first time—I wouldn’t leave, after. He leads the Avengers, too.”

Tony’s eyes widened. “He  _ what _ ?”

“He leads the Avengers. He’s so good at it, too.” 

“Wow. My Spider-Baby, all grown up.” 

They walked in companionable silence for a few minutes. Morgan clenched her fists at her side, summoning her courage. “Hey,” she finally said. “Can you tell me, like, everything about your life that I may find interesting?”

“That’s a tall order,” Tony said. “Or is it venti?”

“Dear God, that was a dad joke.”

“You like it? I’ve had a lot of time to think. But yeah, kid. I’ll tell you some stories.”

And he did. 

It began with a story about dancing on a rooftop with her mom; she wore a backless dress that her dad said he still remembered. After, he told her about the disastrous Stark Expo where he defeated Hammer, then the Battle of New York and the  _ and I quote  _ shitshow that followed. He moved on to Ultron and the Accords, to Peter, and finally to Thanos. Yet it wasn’t the showy moments that captivated her—it was the moments in between, small things that made him  _ real.  _

He tried to cook breakfast for Pepper their first morning together and nearly burned down the kitchen making eggs.

He hosted the Avengers in the tower in 2012. He spent hours in the lab with Bruce, creating useless things that he couldn’t tell her about without laughing. He, Thor, and Steve spent hours experimenting with Mjolnir. He played drinking games with Natasha and Clint. 

He raced Rhodey in his suit and Happy in his car. 

He and Peter tried to eat at every ice cream shop in Queens one night and spent the night on the bathroom floor, vomiting. 

He let Morgan eat an entire package of Girl Scout cookies when she was four, then left for a business trip. Pepper took her to the hospital when she woke up with a stomach ache, thinking she had appendicitis. 

_ He’s real _ , she thought.  _ Real, real, real.  _

“Something’s on your mind, still,” he said once he was finished. “Am I right?”

She swallowed hard. “Yeah.”

She told him everything. She told him about the birthday party and feeling out of place in her own world. She told him about the rooftop with Peter and choosing to time travel. She told him about every trip in detail, including when he stitched up her side—he paled at that, but motioned for her to continue. She told him about the ongoing situation with the Stark tech, how all the old ghosts from his life had returned. His jaw tightened. 

“Who?” he asked. 

“Justin Hammer,” she said. “Adrian Toomes.”

He swore. “Peter…”

“He hasn’t hurt him. There’s also… Obadiah Stane.” 

Her dad stopped walking. “No.”

“I fought all three of them,” she blurted. “I suited up. I got cocky and they all escaped. I thought I’d… feel good, I don’t know, if I captured Stane. Mom got hurt. She’s okay.” She thought of her mom laying motionless on the floor, of the helpless glint in her eye when Morgan brought up the afterlife, of her own misdirected anger. “We’ve been, uh… fighting.  _ Shit _ .” She pressed the heels of her hands against her eyes and sat down hard. 

After a moment, a hand rested on her shoulder. “Talk to me, Morgan,” her dad said. “Really talk to me. Don’t bottle it all up like I did.” 

She exhaled, then met her dad’s gaze. “I want to be a hero. I want to help people, but Dad, I don’t know if I’m good enough. I feel like I mess up everything I do. I’m your legacy—”

“Honey, you’re your own person and—”

“I know I am, but please don’t take the other thing away from me. I’m proud to be your legacy. I’m proud to be Tony Stark’s daughter.” Her chin wobbled, but she raised it anyways. “Being a hero is in my blood. That’s why I’ll be a hero.”

A knowing smile came to his face. “No.”

“ _ No _ ?”

“No,” her dad repeated. “I hate to break it to you, but blood doesn’t have much to do with anything. My parents didn’t give me much, but the people I met along the way—Yinsen, Pepper, Rhodey, Happy, the Avengers, Peter? They gave me everything. They made me who I am—sorry, was.” He grinned sheepishly. “Not a drop of blood connecting us. You’re my daughter, sure, but that doesn’t mean you have to do everything I did. You have to make your own story. You’ll be a hero because you want to be, none of that predestined shit. That’s what I want for you. What do you want?”

_ What do you want, Mo?  _

“I want to make the world a better place,” she said slowly. Yes. That sounded right. She needed to keep going. “I want to help people. I’m so loved, and I want to return some of that love to people who need it. I want you and Peter and Mom to be proud of me.”

He tugged on her hair, a soft smile across his lips and eyes bright with tears. “See? I think you know what you want, and I’d bet anything you’ll get it. You’ll be incredible. Blood is part of the backstory. Focus on the future.”

She gasped and leapt to her feet.  _ The future.  _ “That’s how we’ll do it,” she said. 

His brow wrinkled. “I’m old. Slow it down and explain for me.”

“The future. That’s how we’re gonna beat those assholes.” She bounced on her heels. She was going to punch Stane in the face—in the name of helping people, of course, and maybe partially for some good old-fashioned revenge. “Thank you. Holy shit, thank you.”

“I don’t know how I helped you, but you’re welcome.”

“You’re gonna be so proud of me.” She walked backwards toward where Peter waited so she could look at her dad. She never wanted to stop. “Just you wait.”

He laughed—it was different than the laughs she heard recorded in interviews, less refined and more of a wheezy giggle. God, she loved it. “Joke’s on you, kid. I’ll always be proud of you, no matter what.”

“What if I go to prison?”

“I’m sure you would have a reason.”

“What if I became a supervillain?”

He scoffed. “I’d have to become your sidekick.”

“We could take over the world.” She laughed. It sounded genuine. She hadn’t laughed like that in a long time. She stopped walking, heart pounding. “I wish you could come back with us,” she blurted. Unexpectedly, her dad’s smile didn’t fall, only softened. 

“Hey, none of that.” He brushed her hair from her eyes, as he’d done so many times when she was a child; his hands were calloused yet gentle.

“You didn’t deserve to die.”

“Nobody deserves to, Morgan, but I’m at peace. I knew you all would be safe.”

“But it took you away from us.”

“Nothing is forever. This place will always be here.  _ I’ll _ be here, waiting for you. Life, though, that’s temporary. You have to go back there and make it the best it can be. You have to decide what  _ your  _ legacy will be. It can be big or small, but make it good.”

“ _ Dad _ .” She couldn’t stop the tears from rolling down her cheeks. 

“Cheesy as hell, I know. But you have one life. Don’t waste it. Someone very important told me that. Changed my life. I’ll be with you, and when it’s your time, you’ll see me.” 

“You’ll be alone.”

He looked out at the ocean, a knowing yet secretive shine in his eyes. “The afterlife works in funny ways. I’ll be just fine.” His gaze returned to her; he took her hands in his, squeezing her fingers. “I love you tons.” 

“But I love you three thousand,” she said.

“That much?” He kissed her forehead. When he pulled away, she felt as if she’d never want anything else in the world. “Come on,” he said. “Let’s go see your brother.”

 

#

 

Peter was sitting by the water when a strong hand rested on his shoulder. Tony sat next to him, his lips curved upwards slightly. He looked older than Peter remembered. In the final battle against Thanos, when they hugged, he hadn’t been able to study his salt and pepper hair or new lines on his face; after, with half of his body… charred, Peter wasn’t able to focus on much else. He pondered now what Tony would look like as an old man, hair completely grayed.  

“She’s something.” A look of wonder crossed his face. “She’s…”

Peter smiled. “Perfect, right? I knew it from when I met her at… at the funeral.”

Tony scrunched up his nose. “Yeah, I suppose I had one of those. Christ.”

“I ended up on the roof with her eating ice pops that night. Me, her, and Harley. She hasn’t left my side yet.”

“Harley Keener? I miss that kid. You close with him, too?”

“Yeah, yeah, we are. I visited him in Tennessee a few times, and he comes up to New York every few months.”

A brilliant grin crossed his face. “Good God, talk about worlds colliding. I’m glad.”

“I offered this trip to him. He’s moved on.” Peter wondered if Tony heard the unspoken  _ I didn’t _ —or perhaps it was  _ I couldn’t _ or  _ I can’t.  _

Judging from the grief in Tony’s eyes, he’d heard it. Tony wrapped an arm around Peter’s shoulder. Tentatively, Peter leaned his head against Tony’s, and Tony raised his hand to card it through Peter’s hair. He kept doing it, making Peter feel younger than he had in years and brave enough to say something he’d never said aloud. 

“You didn’t say anything to me when you died,” Peter whispered. 

Tony sighed, pulling away from Peter to meet his eye. “I couldn’t. I tried. You don’t know how hard I tried to say something to you, Pete. I could barely get out Pepper’s name.”

“I know. That’s why I felt guilty for wanting something.” 

“Nah, don’t feel guilty.”

“The last thing you ever said to me was  _ you’re all right.  _ On Titan. But you hugged me, and that… that was nice.”

“It was, wasn’t it? One of the best moments of my goddamn life, seeing you swinging up to me. Made everything worth it. I knew whatever happened, you would love Morgan and make sure Pepper had someone to lean on. I knew you would deliver. By the way—Morgan said you’re running the Avengers.” Pride shone in Tony’s eyes, but also a spark of concern. “You want to be doing that, right? Fury isn’t strong-arming you?”

“Not now, no. At the beginning, yes.”

“ _ Yes _ ? I swear to God, I’m going to find a way to become a ghost and—”

“It was okay! I mean, it wasn’t because I was on vacation in Europe, but I was also pretty certain I never wanted to be Spider-Man again, so maybe I needed some pressure.”

“What’d he have you do?”

“There was this weird dude with a fishbowl on his head and the multiverse—”

“You know what, let’s spare the details. I bet if I heard enough I’d have a heart attack, and then I’d be double dead.”

“No details is fine with me. After that, though, I started doing more missions, and once the Avengers became more scattered, I coordinated. Running them is actually my job, and I build our suits, too. I use your workshop when I can wrestle it away from Morgan.”

Tony tried to hide a smile, but Peter caught it—Tony Stark was  _ proud.  _ “What’s the lineup look like these days?” he asked. 

“Me, obviously. I’m Spider-Man.” He grinned when Tony rolled his eyes. “Scott Lang and Hope Van Dyne as Ant-Man and the Wasp. Sam Wilson is Captain America, and he’s teamed up with Bucky Barnes. Strange and Wanda help out when they’re around. Shuri and T’Challa are running Wakanda, of course, but they’re available. We have the space front covered, too. Carol’s out there, but so are the Guardians—Nebula joined them, by the way. Pepper suits up occasionally. Same for Rhodey, but he’s working his way into retirement. A lot of them are.”

“That’s quite the team.”

“We never would’ve found our way to each other if it wasn’t for you.”

“You flatter me, kid.”

“I’m serious. The Avengers rebanded after you died. We worked with Ross to rewrite the Accords, and we get to maintain secret identities. Alien threats don’t come as frequently. Everyone knows that Earth is protected because of you.” 

“Well, I hope Happy passed this on, but I felt very confident leaving the Earth in your hands. I believed in you from day one.”

Peter ducked his head to hide a blush. “I know.”

“What about personal life? Ted—no,  _ Ned _ is still the BFF, right? And Scary Girl?”

“MJ. Ned is awesome, of course, and I’m with MJ, yeah. Mr. Stark, she’s  _ so  _ smart. She’s writing all these books and working with different nonprofits to help underprivileged kids get a college education, and like, she could be a superhero, too, but she’d rather do this, and it’s incredible to see.” He said it all in one breath, and at the end of his sentence, he came to a realization. “Holy shit, Tony. I think I’m going to ask MJ to marry me.” 

“Marry? You’re too young to get married.” 

“I’m twenty-eight!” 

“You’re not twenty-eight. That’s weird.” Tony shook his head. “Uh-uh. No marriage until forty, and no other stuff until marriage. Wait. No, what am I saying? You being safe? No real Spider Babies until you really want them?”

His face burned. “Mr.  _ Staaaaark _ .”

“There’s my Peter.” 

_ My Peter.  _ Sorrow swelled in Peter’s chest. He was supposed to feel happier, more secure, but all he felt was longing for Tony to miraculously come back to life. He’d wanted that as a teenager, more than anything. Some morning, he’d wake up and forget that Tony was dead, only to have it crash against him once the sleepy haze receded. He wanted these few moments with him to last forever. 

“What are you thinking?” Tony said. “What do you need from me?” 

_ I need you to come back to life. _

_ I need you.  _

“Can I just…” Peter settled his head in the crook of Tony’s neck, then placed Tony’s hand in his hair. Tony chuckled. “Can we just do this for a few minutes? And can you talk to me?” 

“Sure thing,” he murmured. 

Tony spoke softly, just loud enough to be heard over the waves, mostly about happy or emotional memories. The day they met. The time Peter had a stomach virus and Tony spent all night holding him on the bathroom floor. When Tony had a migraine and Peter took care of him. When they spent two days straight marathoning  _ Star Wars.  _ Peter remembered—he remembered everything when it came to Tony. 

“Thank you, Tony,” Peter said when Tony trailed off. 

“No problem. I just wish he had more time.” He tapped Peter’s chest. “I want the wizard to put your soul back in your chest. Help me up?”

Peter stood, then pulled Tony to his feet. His thoughts raced as they walked, but he quieted them once they rejoined Morgan further away from the water. Her jaw was clenched and her fists curled, but she managed a smile. Tony tucked her hair behind her ear.

“So this is it, kiddo,” he said. “Strange bringing you home?” 

“Yeah.” Her gaze flicked to Peter. “Yeah, I guess.”

“You guess? Something wrong with your soul?”

“Daddy, I don’t want to go,” Morgan blurted. “I don’t want to go, please.” She threw herself into Tony’s arms.

Tony held her close, meeting Peter’s stare over her shoulder.  _ I don’t want to go, please, sir.  _ Peter remembered babbling them on Titan, remembered Tony holding him so tight that when he returned, he had bruises in the shape of Tony’s arms.  _ I don’t want to go. _ Those five words carried Tony through time, to his final destiny, and led Peter to spent countless nights awake wondering what would’ve happened if he never turned to dust or stayed on the bus that day. 

“I don’t want to go,” she repeated. “I don’t want to leave you.”

“I know,” Tony said. “I know, hon.” His voice trembled. Peter’s own lip quivered. God, Tony truly did love her—there was never any doubt, but seeing it rather than hearing about it was different.

_I love you, Tony_ , Peter thought. It should’ve been easy to say because he did love Tony. He was more than a mentor or fallen superhero; he was his third and final chance at having a dad. Yeah. He was his dad, basically. _I love you_. The words were stuck in the back of his throat.

Maybe he didn’t have to say it, though.

Maybe he could show it.

Tony tilted her chin up. “Remember what we talked about? You have to live, Morgan.”

“I know, but…”

“Go,” he said gently. “Or Mom will sell all your toys.”

She sniffled. “I don’t  _ have  _ toys. I’m sixteen.”

“You have your workshop. All those fancy things? Toys. She can sell them all.”

Morgan giggled despite the tears in her eyes. “Okay, okay. I’m going.” She inhaled, then nodded and met her dad’s eye. “I love you.”

Tony swallowed hard. “Love you too, baby. Tell your mom…” Tony’s voice hitched. “Tell her that I love her, that I’m at peace, that I’m super sorry still about the giant rabbit and Malibu mansion, and that I’ve rested. Okay?”

“Okay,” Morgan said.

He turned to Peter. “You too, kid. Love you.”

A lump rose in Peter’s throat.  _ Say it.  _ He couldn’t, not after so many years of withholding. Instead of speaking, he hugged Tony, trying not to cry as Tony rubbed his back. Once he pulled back and Tony stepped away, he turned to Morgan.

She took his hand. “Are you ready?” 

“Yeah, yeah, I’m ready.” He stole another glance at Tony, stomach twisting. Could he go through with this? “Um, why don’t you go ahead of me?”

Her brow wrinkled. “You sure?” 

“Absolutely. I want Strange to use most of his energy on you.”

“That’s stupid. Strange has plenty of energy.”

“Morgan, hey, will you just humor me? You go first.” He hugged her, memorizing how she felt in his arms. His sister. His baby sister. He pulled away and gripped her shoulders. “I’ll be right behind you. You’ll wake up, and by the time your soul is all stitched back together or whatever, I’ll be there.”

“Promise?” Her voice sounded small. 

His mouth was dry, his hands shaky. “Promise.” 

A lie. 

“So how do we do this?” she asked. 

“Strange said just think about home, and he’ll know,” Peter replied. 

“Okay.” She shrugged. “Fingers crossed.”

She closed her eyes and exhaled. After a moment, the center of her chest began to glow sunset orange. She gasped. A strong wind billowed off the sea and blew her hair and skirt back; she spread out her arms, as if to receive an embrace. The orange tendril unfurled and reached out; one piece touched Tony, and the other came to Peter, warm and inviting. 

The other five threads appeared from behind her, like a hand reaching from another world, and shone through her chest. In a burst of colored light, Morgan disappeared. The orange wisped away, leaving Peter alone on the beach with Tony. 

_ Go back to her,  _ a voice said.  _ Don’t leave her alone.  _

_ Stay _ , another voice suggested.  _ Be selfish for once. Stay with Tony.  _

“Peter?” Tony said. 

His voice was gentle, fatherly. 

Peter made up his mind.

“I’m staying,” Peter said. “I’m staying with you.”


	10. home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony helps Peter find his way home.

Morgan opened her eyes. 

“Peter,” she gasped. 

Shaking hands gripped her shoulders. She looked up. Strange. Behind him, Happy. Her mom, whose expression was pinched. Morgan’s blood chilled. Outside, it was dark. Had the journey really taken so long? It felt like barely an hour. 

“Easy,” Strange said. “Relax, Morgan.”

“Peter,” she repeated. She looked to the limp hand in hers, to Peter’s serene face. 

Strange furrowed his brow and looked away. “I’m trying.”

“What do you mean that you’re  _ trying _ ?” Happy said. “Bring the kid back.”

“I can’t get a grip.” Strange made a frustrated sound. “I can’t find his soul. It’s like… it’s like his mind is closed, or far, or…”

“Oh my God.” Morgan wrenched herself from Strange’s grip and bent over Peter. “Peter? Peter, can you hear me? Whatever you’re doing, stop.  _ Stop _ . Let him bring you back, Peter.”

“Morgan?” her mom said. 

Morgan exhaled and gripped the sides of her head, fingers threaded through her hair. “He’s shutting out Strange. He wants to stay with Dad.” Shit, she should’ve known, between his sad smile and apologetic tone to his voice. She should’ve seen the signs. She stared at Peter.  _ No _ . What if he… what if he stayed? He’d be dead in this world. They’d have to bury him. 

Strange put on his cloak and swished his hand. Gold sparked in the room as a portal opened, the other side murky.

“What are you doing?” Morgan asked. 

He studied Peter’s prone body, brow furrowed as he frowned. “I’m not letting him go that easily.”

 

#

 

Tony blinked. “I’m positive I didn’t hear you right,” he said. “You’re what?”

“I’m staying with you,” Peter said. 

_ Great,  _ Tony thought.  _ Just great.  _ On the upside, his hearing was intact. On the downside, he had Peter Parker in front of him saying that he wanted to remain here. With Tony. In the afterlife. Where he was  _ dead.  _

“That’s not gonna happen,” Tony said. 

“Why not?” A whiny quality tinged Peter’s voice—it didn’t suit him, especially at twenty-eight years old. No twenty-eight year-old needed to whine, even if said twenty-eight year-old had big brown puppy eyes. 

“Pete, you’re young. You have to live. You need to be there as Spider-Man, but you also need to be there as Peter Parker. People need you.” 

“What about what  _ I  _ need?” 

“What do you mean?”

Peter met his eye, desperate and raw. “After you died, I wanted to follow.”

“No.” Tony’s thoughts came to a screeching halt.  _ No, no, no _ .

“I didn’t. But for the past twelve years, Tony, I’ve had days where I feel like I’m drowning because I never properly handled my grief or because I’ve worked so hard at being a superhero or for whatever reason. I hide it, though. Nobody sees through.”

Tony remembered his bout of palladium poisoning, where he pushed everyone away and resented them at the same time—he expected Peter did the same. 

“At first, people noticed. Like, right after. But years passed, and…” Peter shook his head. “I just want someone to see that I’m falling apart and tell me to get my shit together. MJ and Ned have been saying I need therapy, but… but I don’t know, it just feels… I don’t know, Tony. Everything feels weird and complicated, and I want to stay here with you because everything will be uncomplicated. I wouldn’t have to hurt anymore”

Tony sighed. “Here’s something I learned, kid. Very few people will see you falling apart inside. You gotta reach out, Pete. You gotta say that you aren’t okay, and judging from the people in your life, they’ll jump to help you.”

“I don’t know how to say that I need help,” Peter murmured.

“Of course you don’t. You think you can save the world all on your own, which is all good and fine, but let me ask you something? Look at me.” He waited until Peter met his gaze. “Who will save you?”

Peter didn’t reply.

“For me, it was Pepper, Rhodey, Happy, Morgan, and you.  _ You _ , because I decided I would let you see parts of me nobody else did.” 

“Tony—”

“You don’t have to say anything or answer, but think about it. Who will save you? Because even heroes need saving, kid. Have you been to therapy?”

Peter shifted. “No.”

“That’s the first step. Find a good therapist. Second step is to let your inner circle know what’s going on. They won’t abandon you. They know you love them.” Tony watched as Peter shifted again. “What?”

“I haven’t told anyone I loved them since you died,” Peter whispered. “Never the exact words,  _ I love you _ . I couldn’t.”

And God, Tony’s chest just  _ split _ , almost as painful as wielding the Infinity Stones. Someone like Peter wasn’t meant to move through life stowing feelings and hoarding  _ I love you _ s because he was too afraid to give them away. Peter loved deeply, purely. Not giving anyone the full extent of that must have been  _ killing  _ him. 

“I couldn’t, Mr. Stark,” Peter said. “Before I turned seventeen, I lost both my parents, my uncle, and  _ you _ . I watched you die. I almost lost my friends in Europe. I almost lost MJ and Ned. Every time, it felt like my heart was being torn from my chest. I couldn’t take it anymore.” He began to cry. “I just thought that if I didn’t let anyone  _ super _ close, it wouldn’t happen again.”

“Oh, Peter,” Tony murmured. 

“I don’t tell May or Ned that I love them. I’ve never told Pepper or Morgan. God, I’ve never told MJ. I’ve never told my girlfriend that I love her.”

“They know. You can’t go on like this, though. You need to let people in, or what’s the point? Protecting the people you love and making sure they know they’re it for you. That’s what being a hero is about.” Heart full, swiped his thumbs under Peter’s eyes to wipe away tears. “I love you,” he said. “You know that, right? I love you more than I could say. You don’t have to say it back, I just need you to know. You and Morgan are my kids.” 

“I know,” Peter whispered.

“Did you just  _ Star Wars  _ me?”

Peter laughed, pressing his face into Tony’s shoulder. When he pulled away, his red-rimmed eyes were serious. “I love you,” he said. “I love you, Mr. Stark.”

Tony had known. Of course he’d known. But hearing the words… seeing Morgan, smart and beautiful and grown…

He knew his sacrifice was worth it. 

“See?” He pressed his lips to Peter’s forehead, the same way he’d kissed his cheek when he’d embraced him all those years ago. Peter would be okay—he was far from it now, but one day, he would wake up and be okay. “That wasn’t so hard.”

“I have to tell them.” Peter’s eyes widened. “I have to go back and tell them.”

“There you go.”

“I don’t know if I can find my way home,” Peter whispered. “I think I waited too long. My chest feels weird. Like, detached. It may be… Strange may have lost my soul.” 

Tony exhaled. “He may have, kid, but if I know Strange, even a little bit, he’s sure as hell looking to get you back. We’re gonna get you home, kid. We’ll do this together.” 

 

#

 

Strange returned minutes later, a confident swagger in his step—Morgan didn’t know how much of it was show and how much was real. May, Ned, and MJ stumbled through the portal after him. MJ took in the room, her eyes settling on Peter’s prone form.

“What happened?” Ned asked, panic creeping into his voice. 

“We went to see Tony in the afterlife,” Morgan said. “I came back.”

“Mr. Parker was being difficult,” Strange said. “He wanted to stay with Tony and wouldn’t let me bring him back. Now, the parts of his soul I had in my possession are fading, and the soul of his soul is becoming accustomed to the afterlife. In short…” Strange swallowed hard. “Threads compose soul. Peter’s threads are fraying. If they snap, he’s gone. He’s trying to come back, I can tell, but the connection isn’t strong enough. I’d lose him.” 

_ I’d lose him _ . The words echoed in Morgan’s head. Happy and her mom paled..

MJ knelt by Peter’s cot, May behind her, and pushed Peter’s hair from his forehead, the expression on her face more tender than Morgan had ever seen. MJ was tough usually, all walls and spikes, but Peter tended to soften people. 

“What do we need to do?” MJ asked. 

“Speak to him,” Strange said. “I’ll amplify whatever you say. Hopefully, it’ll strengthen his soul. We need to remind him why he should fight to come home.”

 

#

 

_ Together.  _

A part of Peter wanted to take everything back and insist on staying with Tony.  _ That  _ would be together. Yet there were people waiting for him on the other side—Happy, Pepper, May, Ned. Morgan was on the other side.  _ MJ  _ was on the other side. God, how could he have believed himself capable of leaving them?

“Holy shit,” Peter said. “What was I thinking? I need to get home.”

Tony grinned. “Atta boy, there’s Spider-Man.” 

“I need to…” Suddenly, searing pain gripped his chest and back. He cried out and dropped to his knees, breathless. “My back.”

“Fuck, kid.” Tony knelt beside Peter and undid his shirt. His eyes widened. “Pete…” 

Peter looked down at his chest.  _ Oh, God.  _ Sunset orange light bled from his blistered skin, right over where his heart was; the tendrils were ragged and frayed, splaying out desperately toward the ground. Tony tugged off Peter’s flannel. 

“Mr. Stark, my back is burning,” Peter said. 

“Yeah, there’s a reason for that.” Tony’s fingers ghosted over his shoulders, as light as air. “The Infinity Stones…” 

“Souls are made from the same stuff as the stones. Red, yellow, purple, blue, and green light pouring from my back? From behind my heart?”

“Yeah. Yeah, that’s it. Super ragged.” 

“I waited too long, Tony. Shit. I stayed here too long, and I bet Strange is trying to pull me back to my dimension but the strings are too weak. My soul is rotting.”

“Enough about rotting souls.” Tony knelt in front of Peter again, easing on his flannel. “What do we do? How do you, we know, fix it?”

“Loved ones help, but nobody knows I’m here.”

“Okay, then let’s get your strength up. Just, uh, lay down, close your eyes, listen to the water, all that meditation jazz. Really focus on Strange.”

Peter knew Tony was out of his depth—he could tell just from the tremor in his voice. He didn’t have a better solution, though, so he laid on the sand and closed his eyes. The water whispered against the shore. He timed his breaths to the waves, but whenever he thought of Strange, pain gripped his chest and the light burned the ground him. 

Then, the sound of the water changed. 

It spoke his name. 

_ Peter? Peter, honey, are you there? It’s Pepper.  _

Peter moved onto his knees and opened his eyes. Tony stood and stepped toward the water, his lips parted. A tear trickled down his cheek. 

“Do you…” Peter said.

“It’s her,” Tony whispered. He turned to Peter and pointed at him. “The purple string is glowing brighter. It’s stronger.” A brilliant grin crossed his face. “They know. They’re trying to help you home. Listen to them. Close your eyes,  _ really  _ listen.” 

Peter let his eyes fall shut. 

_ Peter,  _ Pepper said.  _ Strange said we need to remind you of your ties here so he can reach you. Do you remember when I found you putting Morgan to bed after Tony died? You helped her into her pajamas and read her stories. I asked you why you didn’t wake me from my nap. You said you wanted me to rest. We watched a movie together after. We cried because it reminded us of Tony. I couldn’t stop crying, so you helped me to bed, too. When I woke up, you were sitting in a chair by my bed. You said that I shouldn’t be alone in case I had a nightmare. Sweetheart, you’re so thoughtful. Come back to us so we can give some of that back. _

Peter inhaled.  _ I remember,  _ he wanted to say.  _ I remember.  _

The water’s sound changed.  _ Hey, kid.  _ Happy.  _ I would’ve given anything for you to shut up back when you were a teenager, but I need you to start talking.  _ There was a long silence.  _ I protect people. That’s my job. You’re a handful, but I do my best. You try me. I hated that at first, but Tony tried me, too. I forgot that. I like driving you places. I like worrying about you and picking up insane takeout orders. I, uh… I don’t know what I’d do if you don’t bounce back.  _

“The blue thread is stronger,” Tony said. “Whatever you’re doing, keep at it.”

_ I know what I’d do.  _ A different voice.  _ May’s  _ voice.  _ I’d go to the afterlife and kill you myself. You told me once that I’m all you have left, and that’s a two-way street. I know you have a legion of superhero parents, but I’m here. You know that. I would do anything for you. I would fight my way to wherever you are with zero superpowers. Come back so I don’t have to.  _

“May,” Peter gasped. He opened his eyes and collapsed onto the sand, chest heaving. 

Tony caught his shoulders before his face hit the ground. “I know. Blue and purple are strong. Keep listening. You’re doing so good, Pete.”

He studied Tony’s features for a moment, trying to memorize them, and then closed his eyes. Listened. The water was still speaking—he needed to tune in. 

_ This feels weird. Usually this isn’t so… one-sided. We’re usually talking over each other Can you, uh, hear me? Peter?  _ Peter chuckled—Ned.  _ I want you to start talking over me, like you always do. I want to build Lego Death Stars. I want you to go back so we can finish telling those morons online that  _ Star Wars _ and  _ Star Trek _ shouldn’t be pitted against each other. I don’t want you to be stuck in some weird afterlife—even if it’s with freaking Iron Man—because I wouldn’t be able to see you. Please, Peter.  _

Peter opened his eyes again. “I’m getting stronger. I want to go home. Mr. Stark, I want to go home.”

“You’re doing good,” Tony said again. “Red, green, and orange are the weak ones. Strange will bring you back when it’s safe. Close your eyes.”

Peter did as Tony told him. 

_ You lied to me _ , the water said. Morgan.  _ You said you’d be right behind me. I know you didn’t want to worry me—which is bullshit, by the way—but I’m worried now. I understand why you’d want to stay with Dad, but I… I need you, Peter. I’ve needed you since I was four. Even before then. I just didn’t know it. We’ll see Dad again, but I need more time with you. We have to protect the world together. Please don’t make me lose someone else.  _

“I’m trying to come home,” Peter murmured. “I’m trying.” 

_ Hey, dumbass.  _ His heart clenched. MJ. His MJ.  _ Ned glared at me. I take it back. Hello, Peter, Man of Spiders, the great love of my life.  _ Did he imagine the tremor in her voice?  _ I don’t have any fancy words or promises, not even a big story. I know you’re listening, so here’s a question. Do you remember the first night we spent together? What you told me? _

He remembered. Of course he remembered.

Her face, inches from him. Their legs intertwined. Her hand threaded in his hair. The blankets on his bed laying over them. The realization that if they began this, no matter how many times they tried to separate, it would be forever. 

“It won’t be easy to love me,” he’d said. “You’ll always be in danger, even if it doesn’t feel like it. I’ll get hurt, or kidnapped, or tortured. Probably all three at some point in my life. I may die young. Everyone around me does. But I’ll never stop being Spider-Man. Nothing could make me stop. This is the life I chose.” 

_ Did you get it? Now what did I say in response?  _

“I never expected this to be easy,” she’d said. “I expected you to be  _ you _ . Difficult. You won’t die young, though. Not if I have anything to with it.”

He’d frowned. “You can’t promise that.”

She’d pushed his lips into a smile. “Watch me. Me and you will have long, long lives.”

_ We have lives to live, Peter,  _ MJ said.  _ Come on.  _

“You’re good, kid, you’re good!” Tony whooped. Peter opened his eyes, thinking of Strange and how he  _ really  _ needed to get back to the apartment with MJ—like, yesterday. Tony looked at his back, grinning, but when he circled to Peter’s chest, the expression faded. 

Peter glanced down at his chest—the soul of his soul. Despite everything, the thread was still weakened. “That was it,” he whispered. “Those are the people who love me most.”  _ Who I love most.  _

Tony smiled softly. “In that dimension, kiddo.”

Tony pressed his forehead to Peter’s, bringing his hand to rest at the nape of his neck. Peter shuddered and exhaled. Warmth blossomed in his chest; his heart thumped steadily and his breaths evened. Instead of memories, emotions washed over him. Happiness. Grief. Fear. Love. Everything he’d ever felt since becoming Spider-Man—no, since Tony showed up in his apartment, his eye bruised and smile mischievous. 

“When you go home,” Tony began, “I won’t be gone. I won’t be with you, not physically, because I’m not a ghost or an AI or anything, but I’ll be there.” He tapped Peter’s heart. “Know I’m looking after you. Know that you’ll see me again.” He pulled away but kept his hand on the back of Peter’s neck. “I’m so glad I know you. I’m glad you’re my son. It was all worth it.” 

_ It was all worth it.  _

Peter gasped. 

Orange shone brilliantly from his chest. Strength flooded his veins, and when he thought of home, thought of Strange, he felt a tug—a call to the place he truly belonged. Tony’s teeth flashed white as he smiled, triumphant. 

“Told you we’d fix it,” he said. 

“Thank you,” Peter murmured. 

As he fell away, he saw Tony, serene and proud last tendrils of sunset light. 

Darkness curled around him. 

When he opened his eyes this time, moonlight greeted him. 

He gasped and sat up, hands scrabbling over the sheets. Seven concerned faces peered back at him—Strange, Pepper, Happy, May, Ned, Morgan, and MJ. He stared at them, unable to speak. These people brought him back. These people saved him, not just now, but over and over, without expecting anything in return. 

Morgan’s lower lip trembled. “Peter?”

Peter began to cry. 

“I’m sorry,” he gasped. “I’m so sorry, I wasn’t—”

She launched herself into his arms, her head pressed against her chest. He clutched her. God, sometimes it was easy to forget how young she was. How young  _ he’d  _ been. 

“I didn’t really want to leave you,” Peter said. “I just…”

“You wanted him back,” Pepper finished. Happy nodded solemnly. Strange looked away, but his eyes were bright with tears. 

“It’s okay, Peter.” May sniffled, but smiled as she hugged him. 

Ned gripped his shoulder, and Peter allowed his head to rest against Ned’s chest. Only MJ lingered farther from the cot. Peter detached himself from Morgan and clamored from the cot. MJ pressed her lips into a thin line as Peter approached.

“I’m not an easy person to love,” he whispered. 

“Yes.” MJ looked away, mouth quivering. “You are. It’s too easy to love you.”

“I… seeing him again…”

“I know, I know.”

“It made me…” He guided MJ’s face so he could look her in the eyes. “I love you,” he said. “I love you so much, and I should’ve said this years ago. I love you.” She gaped. “MJ, you don’t have to say anything, I—”

She pressed her lips to his. 

He leaned into her, desperate, trembling.  _ You are my home _ , he thought.  _ You and everyone else here will always be my home.  _ She brought her hands to his jaw and deepened the kiss briefly before pulling away. 

“I should almost stay in the afterlife more often,” he murmured. 

She chuckled and began to say something, but Morgan cleared her throat. Peter turned to find her standing with her arms folded over her chest, an eyebrow arched. 

“If you’re done, I know how to do it now.”  _ There _ she was. There was the confidence and spark in her attitude. A new, wicked gling crept into her eyes, one Peter recognized from the past. “I know how to win and save Dad's tech.”

 

#

 

Tony looked out at the water, his heart full. 

Peter made it home. 

Both his kids loved him enough to travel through time, and then visit the afterlife. Peter was as he remembered him, if a bit more mature and jaded, and Morgan… Morgan was everything he ever hoped she could be and more. If he hadn’t known it before, he knew it now—the future would be just fine, and so would he. The afterlife wasn’t as lonely as it seemed.

Tony looked to the hills behind him. Natasha and Steve sat shoulder to shoulder, speaking quietly, but when they saw Tony watching, they both waved. He returned the gesture, grinning and grateful they’d let him have his time with Peter and Morgan alone. God, he really was lucky. He was sharing the afterlife with Steve Rogers and Natasha Romanoff, and when they’d lived full, long lives, his family would join them here. 

The universe was mysterious, sure, but in the end, it had done right by him. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Almost there!! The last chapter will be up tomorrow, sooner in the day rather than later :)


	11. a new age

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A new age of superheroes begins.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So here we are -- the final chapter!! It's about double the length of all the other chapters, so enjoy that lol
> 
> Also, fun fact -- if Marvel told me I could write an Avengers movie, it would totally be called "Avengers: A New Age" and take things from this fic/chapter

Morgan hadn’t slept last night. 

After Peter returned from the afterlife, her mom insisted that everyone spend the night at the tower—she hadn’t addressed the glaring issue between them, that Morgan had gone to the afterlife after Pepper  _ specifically  _ told her not to. Perhaps it didn’t feel right at the time, with Peter still fragile and babbling. Morgan went to bed after showering, sure, but she spent the hours staring at her ceilings, thoughts split between her mom and how she planned to beat the assholes that wanted her dad’s tech. When her phone showed that it was eight, she exhaled, looked in the mirror to smooth her hair, and started down the hallway.

_ Don’t waste this.  _

Because she  _ did  _ want to be a hero. Maybe blood wasn’t the most important thing, but she wanted the Stark name to be synonymous with heroism and peace, and she wanted to do her part in maintaining that. It started with this meeting. She stepped into the elevator and smoothed her hair again—she wouldn’t be able to do that in front of everyone. Weakness. 

“Good morning.” Peter slid into the elevator next to her. Her breath caught for a moment. His glittering eyes and flushed cheeks were a far cry from his pallid from yesterday, and she couldn’t be more grateful. He looked  _ happy.  _ “Sleep well?”

“Not a blink. Nerves, excited, the works. You?”

“Kinda.” His grin turned sheepish as he rubbed the back of his neck. “MJ and I were up, uh, late, uh…”

Morgan wrinkled her nose. “Gross.”

“Yeah, yeah. Do I get a preview of this grand plan?”

“Nope.” 

The elevator doors opened. She strode out, leaving him gaping. As tempting as it was, she didn’t want him to know her plan until everyone else did. She wanted him to support her because she was right, not because she was his little sister. When reached the conference room and opened the door, though, she almost wished she’d told him. Without thinking, she tucked her hair behind both ears.

_ Don’t waste this.  _

Morgan noted everyone in the room as Peter took his seat. Her mom and Rhodey. Strange and Wanda, who was home from a solo mission. Scott and Hope. Bucky and Sam. T’Challa on video call. The usuals were there, sure, but there were also new faces. Cassie Lang. Lila Barton. Shuri, standing tall next to her brother. Harley Keener also on video call. 

And they were all looking at her, waiting. 

A lot of them only saw Tony Stark’s daughter. That was okay. Blood was only her backstory, as her dad had said. She had to focus on the future.

“Here’s my thought process,” Morgan said without preamble. “Everyone here knows the Stark tech situation. No need to explain it. Stane, Hammer, and Toomes are old dudes. No offense to anyone here that considers themselves old. What I mean is that they know the  _ old  _ Avengers—the tactics my dad used and what a lot of you guys  _ still  _ use. But they don’t know how the younger generation of Avengers rolls. They don’t know our tactics, our nerve, our personalities. So we do this—we let them fight the old squad, let them take a selection of my dad’s tech. Make them feel like they won. However, they won’t realize that one, we have our own tech to counter Dad’s, and two, the new Avengers are waiting to kick their asses and send them back in time. The original crew will need to sit out.” She glanced to Peter. His expression was impassive. As the bridge between the two generations, he was a key vote for this. 

“What’s your lineup?” Peter said, voice unreadable. 

“You on point,” she said. “Cassie Lang in the Wasp suit.”

“Actually,” Cassie interrupted, “I’ve been working on my own suit and my own name.” Scott gaped at her. “Don’t look so shocked. I’m thinking… Stature.”

Morgan grinned. “Cassie as Stature. Lila Barton with a bow and arrow. Shuri as Black Panther, if she can. Harley Keener as—hand to God, he’s okay with this name—Iron Lad. And me.” She raised her chin. “Me as Iron Woman.” 

“Jesus Christ, Morgan,” her mom said. 

_ But _ —she didn’t say no. Neither did Peter. In fact, nobody in the room did. She clenched her fists as everyone at the table exchanged glances and silent conversations she couldn’t understand. Cassie grinned and gave her a thumbs up. Morgan returned it weakly, wondering if Harley would come from Tennessee and Shuri from  _ Wakanda.  _

“Questions for me?” she asked. 

“How will they be sent back in time?” Strange asked. 

“Ah.” Morgan grinned ruefully. “We don’t have a sorcerer for the younger gen, yet, so we’ll need you for that. I figure Selvig helped the Avengers in the Battle of New York, so it isn’t cheating on our end.”

“What tech would you suggest let them take?” Hope asked.

Rhodey nodded. “That’s what worries me, too.” 

“Some of the more defective suits,” Morgan said. “Maybe blaster guns. Nothing monumental. The key thing is my lineup would spend some time in the workshop coming up with our own tech to defend from what they have. Five of us have engineering and mechanics experience, and Lila will know how to defend from a tactical standpoint. Next question.”

Everyone, including Peter, posed tactical questions. Her head spun, but she provided coherent answers—responses she’d cultivated while laying awake at night.

Then, Sam cleared his throat. “You expect us to sit out when we could help?” he asked. “That’s the part I don’t like.” 

“Yes,” Morgan replied. “I do.”

“Why?” Bucky asked. 

All eyes were on her—she knew it was a good question. She needed to provide a good answer. “It’s a statement. There hasn’t been a real Avengers force since 2016, really. The Accords messed you guys up. And yeah, you’ve come together for select missions, but I’m talking an _Avengers_ Avengers—living in the relatively same area, team building, joint missions, the works.” _A family,_ she thought. “People have been asking what’s next for twelve years. The _universe_ has been asking what’s next, because my dad put us on the map. We can’t rely on the space-based forces to come save us if some lunatic decides to roll up on Earth again. Humans _and_ everyone else out there needs to know that even when the originals are gone, the new generation of Avengers can hold our own and protect our planet.”

There was silence. Nobody met each other’s eyes, but Scott sniffled and Strange stared at her with his grim, astute expression. Morgan let herself steal a glance at her mom and Peter. His eyes were bright with tears, but her mom… she smiled, her chin raised proudly. Hell, maybe Morgan had done the right thing after all. 

“I have a question,” Shuri said. “When do I need to be in New York?” 

“Ditto,” Harley added. 

“I’m ready to help.” Lila grinned brilliantly. 

Murmurs of assent went around the room. She couldn’t contain the grin spreading across her face. “Tomorrow morning,” she said. “I want to nail these bastards as soon as possible.” She winced. “Sorry I said  _ bastards _ , Mom.”

 

#

 

Peter sat in the workshop, watching as Morgan paced. Ten long strides, pivot. Another ten strides, pivot. Repeat. 

“They’re going to come,” Peter said. Morgan came up with a brilliant plan, one he should’ve suggested days ago, but he couldn’t be angry. He knew she would want to be a hero one day, and watching her come into her own… it reminded him of twelve years ago, of his youth and Tony grudgingly letting him into his life.

It made him smile. 

She glared at him. “I know.”

“Then why don’t you relax?”

“Overrated.” She didn’t stop pacing; she did, however, send supposedly furtive glances his way. 

He ignored them. She, MJ, Ned, May, even Pepper and Happy kept looking at him like he’d break down or wilt at any moment. He hadn’t talked about how he tried to stay with Tony—they all seemed afraid to ask. In the past, he would’ve played off that fear and let the incident fade into memory, but now, he knew he needed to address it. Now  _ really  _ wasn’t the time to do it, with the New Avengers coming into the workshop, but after… he had words for after. He almost left his family. He would never do that again. 

“Hey, Mo, Peter.” Cassie walked into the workshop carrying a giant iced coffee and a dozen donuts from Dunkin’. Lila Barton trailed her, her bow and arrows slung over her shoulder. Peter knew Morgan would never admit it, but her shoulders slumped a bit in relief. 

“You know we aren’t going into battle today, right?” Morgan asked. 

Lila shrugged. “You can never be too prepared.”

“You should’ve seen the bus driver’s face. He was all like…” Cassie mimed a shocked expression. “Super ugly. I loved it.” 

“This where the party is?” Shuri’s voice as the elevator opened again. Peter grinned and leapt from his seat. Shuri and Harley—two of the people in the superhero world he’d valued most after Thanos—stepped into the workshop. 

“Hey, man.” Harley hugged Peter and thumped his back. “Heard about your little stunt,” he said as he pulled away. “Tony let you get away with that?”

“I didn’t give him much of a choice,” Peter said, rubbing the back of his neck.  
“Yeah, you’re stubborn as hell.” Harley grinned. “So it was worth it?”

Peter matched his smile. “Absolutely.”

“Hello?” Shuri elbowed her way between them. “Do I get any attention.”

“Hello, Your Highness,” Peter said. “Hello, Protector of Wakanda, Princess of the Continent. I’m honored that you decided to grace us with—”

“Shut up.” She elbowed his stomach, laughing as Peter tried to dodge. “I’m not even here for you. I’m here for the brilliant Miss Stark. Stark, we need to get you to Wakanda one day. I’m sure your toys are very nice, but you will freak when you see mine. We can even throw my brother across the lab.”

“You throw the king of Wakanda across the lab?” Harley said. 

Shuri scoffed. “Regularly. I need some entertainment.” 

“This isn’t entertaining enough?” Morgan asked, chin raised confidently. Peter only detected the tremor in her voice because he knew her so well. She was nervous—he didn’t blame her. This was a big gamble, and the world would be watching. 

“All right,” Peter said. All eyes snapped to him. Morgan smiled gratefully. 

“Gonna give us a speech about teamwork and duty?” Lila said, already perched on one of the countertops. 

“Tony brought me into the superhero game, not Cap. We still need to know what’s going on, though. Morgan made a list of all the tech they’re going to let Hammer, Stane, and Toomes take.” Peter pressed a button on the tablet on the table to project a list. 

Cassie whistled. “That’s some hardcore stuff.”

“I have to agree,” Harley said. “We’re really going to let them take parts of his suits, blasters, and more shit they could use to kill us?”

“We’ll know exactly what they have when they run, and we’ll be waiting for them on the tower’s roof,” Morgan said. “Always a step ahead.”

“And today, we’re gonna create our own tech that will counter and disable whatever they take,” Peter said. “We’ll divide the list and work in teams. Lila, you’re our guinea pig. We’ll see how you can combat our devices to find weaknesses.”

Lila arched an eyebrow. “That actually sounds fun.”

“Thank God. Ready?”

“Should we all put our hands in and shout  _ go team! _ ” Cassie said. Morgan elbowed her, but looked to Peter like she was considering it. 

Shuri whooped and raised her fist. “Go team!” 

They broke into pairs, Morgan with Shuri near Tony’s suits, Harley and Peter with the blaster guns, and Cassie collecting a variety of random tech with Lila peering over her shoulder. At first, it was quiet, but then Morgan muttered under her breath and cranked up the speakers. Deep Purple pounded through the room, and by the time a few songs passed, Morgan, Cassie, and Shuri were shouting “Smoke on the Water.” Peter and Lila reached for the last donut at the same time and ended up arm wrestling—Lila put on a gauntlet and  _ almost _ won. When Harley set something on fire, both he and Morgan whooped joyfully. Peter only sighed and watched as Shuri extinguished it. His vacations with Harley taught him that the other boy  _ thrived  _ off chaos and disaster. Hours went by, and soon, they had blasters and weapons that would easily counter anything Hammer, Stane, and Toomes got. The other five exchanged high fives and compliments, voices joining to create a happy cacophony. 

Peter exhaled.  _ This  _ was what Tony imagined for the future of the Avengers—heroes working together with the same goal, getting along, and living in a world where death was an infrequent visitor, not a constant presence. He’d wanted a united front from the beginning, and twelve years after his death, he had it. He’d created it. Morgan was his daughter. Peter, Shuri, and Lila would still be dust without him. Harley wouldn’t be involved. Cassie wouldn’t have Hope to inspire her. Yes, even if he couldn’t see it, the courage to do this came from Tony Stark. 

_ I hope you’re proud, Mr. Stark _ , he thought.  _ This is for you.  _

Harley came to his side. “You okay?” he asked.

“Yeah.” Peter swallowed the lump in his throat. This was no time for tears. 

Around nine at night, Morgan wiped her greasy hands on her jeans and looked around the workshop. “I think that’s it,” she said. 

“We should do this again,” Cassie said.

“We will. Tomorrow morning,” Peter replied.

“Figure of speech.”

“Oh, yeah, right.” Peter flushed, then steeled himself. 

“I know that look.” Morgan bounced on her toes. “You have something to say.”

“I do. Um…” He swallowed hard. “Tomorrow, we’re gonna have to prove we can handle this. I know some of you didn’t know Tony personally, but, um… this is about protecting his legacy. Hammer, Stane, Toomes, they all want to take something away from who he was. He beat them once. Our job is to do it again and show anyone who could be watching that Earth is… shit, I already said protected.”

“Defended.” Morgan lifted her chin defiantly, fists curled at her side. “Earth is defended.” 

Cassie whooped, and the others gave him begrudging applause. Peter could almost imagine Tony among them, wearing a proud expression. After a few more minutes, Cassie, Shuri, Harley, and Lila got into the elevator to return to their rooms for the night. 

“Sleep tight, boss,” Lila said, nodding at Peter as the elevator closed. 

_ Boss.  _

“Quit smiling,” Morgan said, but she was grinning. 

After everything he’d gone through, it sounded right. 

 

#

 

Morgan couldn’t think about tech any longer. Even thought she  _ knew  _ she needed to work on it, she couldn’t bring herself to go down to the lab. Instead, she sprawled on the couch and watched reruns of  _ Brooklyn Nine-Nine _ ’s tenth season. Halfway through an episode, though, a door opened.Her mom’s bedroom door. 

Part of Morgan wanted to run to her own room. Eating glass sounded better than a difficult conversation, but her dad wouldn’t have wanted that. 

“Did you eat?” her mom asked. 

“Almost an entire bag of gummy worms and Cassie’s twelve hour-old iced coffee.” Morgan sat up and pulled her knees to her chest, not meeting her mom’s eyes. 

Pepper moved around in the kitchen. The microwave beeped, and after a few minutes, her mom brought her a plate of reheated gnocchi and a fork. Morgan ate silently as her mom settled into the space next to her, the fork clinking against the plate. Once she finished, she set the plate to the side and looked to her mom.

“You told me not to go to the afterlife,” she blurted. “I did it anyways.” 

Her mom sighed. She looked old. That terrified Morgan. “I know,” she said. “God, I should be furious.”

“What are you?” 

“Empathetic. I know why you did it.” A soft smile crossed her lips. “He’s incredible, right?”

“Yeah,” Morgan said quietly. “I wish I could’ve known him.” 

“I know. The world isn’t always fair. I hate that saying, but it’s true.”

“You know what I thought about for a split second?” Morgan hadn’t told anyone this, not even Peter. “I thought,  _ what if there’s a way to bring him back?  _ I thought about dragging his soul back here so he could live with us. We could be together again.” 

Her mom smiled sadly. “I tried.” 

“What?”

“A few months after he died, I tried. Me, Strange, and Rhodey. It didn’t work. We realized that we had to respect his sacrifice. Of all the ways to die, baby. He went out strong and proud and loved, on his own terms. We couldn’t drag him back because we missed him.”

Morgan nodded, closing her eyes so she didn’t cry. She leaned her head against her mom’s shoulder, sitting in silence, until Morgan said, “He gave me a message for you. He, uh, said that he loves you, that he’s at peace, that he’s still super sorry about the giant rabbit in the Malibu mansion? Mom, what the hell does that  _ mean _ ?”

Pepper burst into laughter, clutching her chest. “Story for another time. Was that it?”

“He said that… he said that he rested.”

Her mom sobered; just as quickly as the laughter came, tears rose in her eyes. “Sorry,” she said, wiping her eyes. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to cry.” 

Morgan meant to say that it was okay, that she didn’t mind tears, but instead, she blurted, “Did you ever try to date again?”

“No.” Her mom’s sad smile returned.

“Why not?” 

“Stephen Strange and I talked for a long time after the funeral. I… I’d held it together because I had to, but when people started leaving, I broke. You were with Peter and May. He found me. He told me that this was the only outcome where we beat Thanos, but in every scenario, over fourteen million of them, Tony loved me until the end, and I loved him. In fourteen million timelines, he loved me. How could anyone compare? I knew I’d had my chance. He was it for me.” She let her tears fall. Morgan realized she’d never seen her mom cry before, not more than a few tears. “Peter and Stephen say there’s a multiverse out there. That means that somewhere, in some universe, we’re all together, and in this universe, I’ll see him again.”

“I’m so sorry.” Morgan began to cry, unable to hold her tears in any longer. “Mom, I’m sorry I didn’t listen to you, and I’m so sorry I yelled, and I’m sorry I went time traveling without telling you or at least offering to let you come with us.” Her heart was in her throat, but she made herself continue. “I needed to do this, but… but I didn’t want to hurt you, and I feel like I did.”

Pepper sighed. “Thank you,” she said. “I know it’s hard for you to apologize.”

“I kinda suck at it.” 

“No, baby, you did fine.”

“You know I mean it, right?” 

“I do. I’m just… I get scared sometimes.”

“What do you mean?”

“When he died, I was afraid I wouldn’t be enough for you,” her mom murmured. “I’m still afraid, sometimes. I see how smart you are and how your brain works so much like his. I’m always scared that you’ll get tired of me and want him. I was on the battlefield, too.”

Morgan’s stomach turned. “Mom—”

“You don’t have to respond, and I shouldn’t have said anything—”

“Mom—”

“It sounds stupid when I say it aloud, so—”

“ _ Mommy! _ ” Morgan gripped her mom’s hands, hard enough to make her stop talking. “Will you listen to me for a minute?” Her mom looked away. Morgan tilted her head back. “I know what I am. I’m impulsive and brash and too smart for my good. Everyone tells me I’m a lot like dad. But I’m also a lot like you. I’m steadfast. I’m tenacious. I’m bold, loyal. All of that is  _ you _ , and that’s enough. If I was only like dad, I wouldn’t be me. You keep me right, Mom. You steady me and help me remember who I am. Nobody else could do that. Is that enough?”

“Morgan, you don’t have to—” Pepper started.

“I don’t  _ have  _ to do anything. All I know is that when I walked into the kitchen and found you on the floor…” She studied her lap—she couldn’t look her mom in the eye when saying this. “I knew that if you were dead, I would be lost. You and Dad took down supervillains, and I would’ve become someone you despised. I would’ve torn the world apart to bring you back. It’s me and you, Mom. It always has been, and it always will. I love you so much. You don’t even know the half of it.”

Her mom’s lower lip quivered. She looked at Morgan, opening and closing her mouth a few times before settling on just  _ staring.  _

“Can you say something?” Morgan whispered. “Can you please just…” 

“My girl.” Pepper pulled Morgan into her arms, pressing her lips to the side of her head as she cried. “My beautiful, brilliant girl.” 

Almost hating herself, Morgan cried, too. They sobbed together on the couch, and Morgan realized they’d never done this before. Maybe they should’ve done this earlier—talked, listened, cried. Acknowledged their feelings. Came to terms with her dad’s death. But they were doing it now, thank God, when they still had time. It wasn’t too late. 

“You’re enough,” Morgan said. “You’re enough.”

Her mom exhaled, relief almost palpable as she sank against the couch and closed her eyes. She must have been exhausted. Morgan pushed her mom’s hair from her face, then stayed on the couch with her until she drifted off. 

Then, she got into the elevator and chose the floor beneath theirs—Peter’s personal floor for when he wanted it. It was sparsely decorated, but it had a couch and a TV and a bedroom, enough for him to be comfortable when he wanted to stay. The few adornments he had, though were photographs—of him with Tony, MJ, Ned, Happy, Rhodey, Pepper,  _ her _ . Once off the elevator, she found herself in front of a faded picture of him with her dad, Tony holding a Stark Industries certificate. Neither one would admit he was much more than an intern. Neither one knew what was coming, that in six years, one would be dust, and when he returned, the other would die. Morgan smiled sadly. Nobody ever knew what was coming—not the good, not the bad. Nothing. Perhaps it was better than way. 

“Morgan?”  

She turned to see Peter standing in front of his closed bedroom door, hair mussed but eyes wide and awake. 

“Did I interrupt something?” she asked. 

“MJ and I were in bed. I was thinking about coming to talk to you, though. A lot on my mind.” He sat on the couch and pulled his knees to his chest. Morgan settled next to him. “Yeah. I really, really do want to talk to you. Wanna talk to me?”

Morgan groaned. “I’ve already had one heart-to-heart today.”

“Don’t consider this a heart-to-heart. Just a chat. Where I say some… emotional things.” He chuckled when she rolled her eyes. “You wouldn’t have come here if you didn’t want that.”

“I  _ wanted  _ some company, but if you want to go back to canoodling your girlfriend—”

“Ask what you wanted to ask.”

“Would you really have left me behind?” She felt selfish.  _ Me.  _ Peter would’ve left everyone, but she could only think of herself. 

“No.” He sighed. “Yes. God. When I saw him, I felt sixteen again. I felt like a child. All I knew was that I wanted someone to take care of me, and Tony always did. I was always safe with him. I forgot everything I knew. I didn’t want to leave you, Morgan. I just wanted to have both, and I forgot that I couldn’t.”

“I can protect you.”

“No, no, that’s not how it works.”

“Why not? You protected my dad, right? Let me protect you. I’ll take care of you, Peter. You know I can. I’ll watch your back during fights. I’ll make you dinner. Your favorites. If you get hurt or feel sad, I’ll help you and make you feel better. We can keep each other safe. That’s what brothers and sisters do.”

Peter looked at her, tears in his eyes. Great. She’d made the two most important people in her life cry tonight. 

“I’m gonna be a hero,” she said. “One way or another.”

“You need to be sure,” Peter said quietly. “If you choose this life, it’s forever. You’ve seen how few of us  _ truly  _ retire. A few do, but most…”

“Most die,” Morgan finished. 

“Yes. A lot of us do, but we can’t control who lives and who dies. We can only save as many people as possible. Like I said, Morgan, you need to know that this is what you’re meant to do, not what your dad wanted you to do, not what I or anyone else wants you to do. I wish someone had told me that when I was sixteen. I wouldn’t have made a different choice… but I just wish that I’d known. I thought I could save the world and everyone I loved, too.”

Her instinct was to say something snarky. Something defensive. Perhaps she would’ve without her dad’s words still fresh.  _ Don’t waste it.  _ She met Peter’s eye and said, “I’m the second part of his story, but also the beginning of my own. It has to be told.” 

Peter smirked. “Poetic.”

“You’re an asshole.”

“I know.”

“I’m glad we time traveled.” 

He seemed happier, happier than he’d been in ages. “I know.”

She nudged his side. “I’ll let you return to your  _ canoodling _ .” 

Peter sputtered, trying to explain himself, but she returned to the elevator with a wink. A part of her wanted to go to her workshop and fiddle with her suit more, but she knew the healthy choice—to rest. She returned to the penthouse instead, then went to her bedroom and turned off the light. Moonlight streamed into the room as she climbed underneath the blankets, feeling strangely peaceful. 

Morgan turned onto her side, looking at the picture of her and her parents that she kept on her nightstand. Usually, it made her tear up, but she smiled and closed her eyes, pulling the blankets up to her chin. The lamp Carol gave her for her birthday shone gently in the corner, as bright as any star outside. Tomorrow, she would fight.

Tonight, she would sleep. 

 

#

 

“What was that about?” MJ asked as Peter returned to the bedroom. 

Despite what he told Morgan, there was  _ canoodling _ —canoodling he hoped would become something more. But Morgan was right—tonight was a night for complicated talks, and he owed MJ. He’d owed her for a long time.  

“She asked me why I stayed.” Peter folded herself into the bed next to her. “I told her I was afraid and wanted Tony. That’s the truth, partially.” 

MJ exhaled, like she understood everything he wasn’t saying. 

“Can I say some things to you?” He hated how his voice wavered. He had to push on, though—this was part of being a hero, too, and he needed to set an example for Morgan. He had better than Tony, and she would have better than both of them. 

MJ shifted onto his side to look him in the eye. “Yeah, knock yourself out.” 

“You were right,” he began. “I need therapy. I don’t think I ever recovered, not from any of it, and I’ve been hiding it from you. I thought if you believed I was okay, I would eventually believe it, too. It seemed easier that way.” 

Her hand trailed over his cheek—he was crying, he realized. 

“I mean what I told you all those years ago. This isn’t an easy life. I haven’t made it any easier. It’s just that… Jesus, MJ, sometimes I see this terrible look in Pepper’s eye. I see how sad she is, and I just imagine that it’s you. I know the risks and I’ve made my choices, and you chose me, I know all this, but God, I don’t think either of us knew what we were getting into.”

“I did,” MJ said. “I thought about it for a long time before we got together. I knew you were traumatized. I knew terrible things could happen to us at any time, and want to know what I realized? Terrible things can happen anywhere, and if I could be anywhere, I’d want to be with you.” She wrinkled her nose. “It’s sappy.”

“It is,” Peter agreed. 

“But you know what, Peter? You’re gonna work hard. You’re gonna go to therapy and work out your issues one by one. You’re gonna  _ really  _ come to terms with Tony’s death. And you know what? All I need is for you to be honest with me, and everything will work itself out.”

The rest of the world faded away, leaving only her.  _ I love you.  _ He said it aloud, then said it again. She whispered it back, and they were in each other’s arms. He took off her shirt and she took off his, and then their lips met. His heart pulsed as her hands skimmed over his stomach, up and down, until her fingers came to rest on his heart. 

“I love you,” he said again. 

She pressed her lips to his and whispered, “I love you.”

Tomorrow, the fight would come, and he would defend Tony’s legacy.

Tonight, there was only her. 

 

#

 

Alone in the workshop, Morgan faced the suit she would wear into battle. 

The old Avengers were downstairs, waiting for Hammer, Toomes, and Stane to take the bait, while the new Avengers were on the roof, waiting for them to get away. She needed to join them, but she also needed a moment alone with the suit. Trying on the Rescue armor or Harley’s armor was one thing. The suit her dad wore, though… that was different. Out from behind the glass, the deep red and gold colors were brighter, nobler, washed in brilliant light. She stared at the mask, tilting her chin to meet the eyes. What had her dad looked like wearing the Infinity Gauntlet in a suit like this? He must have been in pain. Had he smiled, though? Had his eyes shone? She knew fire had illuminated him—Carol told her that. He shone like a star, she’d said. He was a supernova. 

“I promise I’ll make you proud,” she whispered.

Then, the suit assembled over her body. Red and gold plates thumped into place, gears whirring in time with her heart. It secured over her legs, her chest, her hands, until only her head remained uncovered. She tied her hair into a ponytail, then looked into the mirror. Her breath caught. She barely recognized herself. How could she play at being Iron Man?

_ Not Iron Man,  _ she reminded herself.  _ Something new.  _

She secured the mask, then soared out the window, up vertically. Metrics flashed before her eyes, but she could only think about the flight and city sprawled out before her until she landed on the roof. The others were gathered, watching. She grinned as the mask receded. 

“Sunday best?” she said. It looked like it, with Cassie in her  _ Stature _ suit, Shuri in the purple-accented Black Panther suit, Lila clad in black, Harley wearing a sleeker silver-red version of her suit, Peter in the Iron Spider suit rather than his less-flashy uniform. 

“Glad you decided to show,” Peter said. But he was smiling—they all were. Perhaps they were too confident, but Morgan sensed that something big would happen today, hopefull something good. Peter cleared his throat. “If everything is going right—”

“When do things ever go right?” Cassie interrupted.

Peter glared at her. “If everything is going  _ right _ , they’re taking the tech as we speak. We have the devices that should disable Tony’s—sorry, the Stark tech.”

“Oh, come on.” Shuri said. “Talk about this like it’s personal!”

Harley nodded. “We all know it is.” 

Peter exhaled. “It should disable Tony’s tech. We can’t count for what they’ll bring to the table, though, especially the Vulture. If it comes to a big fight, stay on the comms, keep civilians out of it. We wanted as little collateral damage as possible, obviously.”

“And if you get hurt, hurt ‘em back,” Lila said, eyes glinting. 

Morgan furrowed her brow, confused. Shuri, Cassie, and Harley did the same, but Peter laughed. “If you get killed, walk it off. Your dad told you about that, too?”

“Sokovia,” Lila clarified. “One of Cap’s funnier orders.”

Shuri snorted. “The old Avengers were a disaster. Let’s not be disasters, guys.” 

Static came over the comm. Peter pressed his hand to his ear, and Morgan bowed her head. “They got the tech,” Sam said. “Easiest fight ever.” 

“They’re heading north,” Rhodey added. 

“Your fight, now.” Strange’s voice—not over the comm. Cassie yelped and jumped back.  Strange rolled his eyes handed Morgan three small discs, each about the size of a quarter. “Simple spell. Memory loss and temporal transfer. Toss it, and a portal will open for ten seconds. They don’t need to see me join this fight.” His eyes flicked over the group, lingering Morgan. “Things will change today. Good luck.”

Before she could thank him, he was gone. She stared at the spot where he’d stood, as did the others, but Peter whistled and snapped. 

“North,” Peter ordered. “Let’s get them. Rooftops.” 

A web shot out from his hand, and in a blink, he was swinging forward, Shuri sprinting and jumping behind him. Cassie shrank and hopped onto Lila’s shoulder; Lila took off running, and when she leapt to another building, blasters on her shoes propelled her forward. Harley lifted off, and Morgan did the same. In the distance, she saw three black-clad figures, green light and assorted Iron Man suits surrounding them. Morgan opened up the back of the suit, and heat-seeking rockets fell into flight next to her. 

“Directly ahead,” Peter said. 

Morgan added some power to her suit, flying faster to catch up with Peter. Last time, she’d underestimated Stane and overestimated herself—a fatal combination.

Peter stopped, standing on the edge of a building with his shoulders squared. Harley, Lila, Cassie, and Shuri flanked him, but Morgan remained in the air at Peter’s side, flipping down the mask—she wanted to look Stane in the eye.

“Stane!” Peter shouted. “Hammer!” She saw his throat bob. “Toomes.” 

The three men turned to them, coming to stand on the opposite building. Stane’s mask receded; his gaze strayed to Morgan, a smirk playing over his lips. Iron Man suits hovered behind them, while Hammer held blasters and Toomes had more weapons strapped over his shoulder. Morgan clenched her jaw. 

“Stand down,” Peter said. Morgan ducked her head to hide a smirk—superhero voice. She decided she liked it again. “You won’t like what happens if you don’t.”

“Didn’t I drop a building on you?” Toomes sneered. 

“I lifted the building off myself without a suit. Wanna see what happens when I have that  _ and  _ some friends?” He nodded. “Morgan, Lila?” 

Morgan launched the rockets. Lila fired four arrows at once toward the blasters and other weapons. The weapons went up with a boom; once the rockets hit, the suits exploded, fire blooming in the sky. She should’ve felt happy. Instead, she thought,  _ It can’t be this easy.  _

“You’re alone,” Peter continued. “Don’t make this hard.” 

“Alone?” Stane smirked and pressed a button attached to his suit’s chestplate. “Peter, I think you underestimate us.” 

The  _ ridiculous  _ expression remained on his face as something boomed in the distance. Morgan stifled a gasp. Next to her, Lila tensed. Sleek silver robots rose from rooftops, faces mouthless, noseless, their only features glowing green eyes. They had fluid, almost alien frames. Screams rose from the streets as the robots flew higher into the sky.

“Oh my,” Shuri murmured. 

“Thought I’d try this again,” Hammer said. “New suits with  _ my  _ improvements.”

“It has to be better than anything Stark created,” Toomes added. 

Morgan grimaced. To Hell with putting her ego aside—she was Morgan fucking Stark, and like Shuri said, this was personal. She looked to Toomes. “Fuck that. You lost to my brother.” To Hammer. “You lost to my father.” Then, to Stane. “You lost to my mother.” The mask flipped down to cover her face. “And now you’ll all lose to me.”

Stane held her gaze for a moment, then soared off the rooftop, Hammer and Toomes close behind. Peter hesitated for a moment, then nodded to himself. 

“Shuri, Lila, you’re on containment and removal,” Peter said. “Get rid of those bots, and see if you can take down Hammer in the process. Morgan, Cassie, get Stane. Harley, with me. We’re going after Toomes.” Peter’s voice carried none of them humor from before. “Let’s win.” 

Cassie shrunk and hopped onto Morgan’s shoulder.

Morgan gave Peter a brief nod, then took off.

 

#

 

Peter swung after Toomes, half-aware of Harley blasting bots behind him. 

“New York?” Harley said through the comm. “Again?”

“Bit cliche, yeah?” Peter activated instant kill mode and took out three bots. “Like, how many times are the aliens gonna attack on New York? Or the robots, I guess.” 

“I’ll invite them to Tennessee next time. All the hillbillies would love it.” 

“Why can’t the aliens ever just come to chat?” Shuri added. She grunted—Peter hoped it meant  _ she  _ landed a kill. “Fighting this, invading that.  _ Booooring. _ ” 

“I wish they had noses and mouths,” Cassie said. “The whole just-eyes thing is creepy.”

“Good target practice,” Lila chimed in. 

“Do you guys always talk this much in a fight?” Morgan asked. “Isn’t this, like, comm abuse? Or abuse of official something-or-other?”

Despite the situation, Peter laughed. 

“Eyes on Toomes!” Harley said. 

_ Toomes.  _ Peter refocused as Toomes soared above them, metal wings deadly against the blue sky. “Let’s get him.” 

 

#

 

Peter and Harley pursued Toomes, but Morgan had eyes on Stane. He circled the building—probably wanted to go in for more tech. 

“Should I grow?” Cassie asked. 

“Not yet—damage,” Morgan said. She’d only been thinking allowed, but Cassie grunted like she’d accepted an order. Shit. Had she just given an order? 

“Morgan!” Rhodey’s voice in her comm.  _ Double  _ shit. “Do you guys need help?”

“Let us try,” she replied, blasting two robots out of the sky. She shot toward the ground, where crowds were gathering, peering at the sky. “We can do this.”

Rhodey said something else, but Morgan didn’t hear. People shouted and pointed at her. 

“Yeah, yeah, it’s Iron Man. Woo!” She hovered a few inches above the ground. “Get off the streets! Go into single-story buildings, but if it has to be a skyscraper, stay on the first floor.” Hopefully the robots weren’t fond of collateral damage. Stane most likely wanted a distraction, something to keep them occupied while he stole more tech. 

Which, low key, was working.

Eight robots surrounded her. The crowd dispersed, but Morgan flew higher. 

“All of this for me?” She raised her blaster and began to fight.

 

#

 

Peter landed on a rooftop, motioning for Harley to touch down next to him. He launched two webs at the Vulture. They latched onto his wings. Peter grabbed one. Harley took the other. They  _ pulled.  _ Toomes yanked them to the edge of the building. Peter braced his feet against a ledge, while Harley activated stabilizers. 

“We met at a fucking  _ funeral _ ,” Harley said. “Did you ever think we’d end up here?”

“It was Tony Stark’s funeral,” Peter shouted. “Of course I did.” 

Harley laughed. “Put your back into it, buddy.” 

Peter pulled harder, going down to one knee. With that, Toomes lost balance. A final tug brought him down.

“Morgan, we need one of Strange’s things,” Peter said.

“A little busy!” she replied.

“ _ Now _ ,” Harley said. 

Peter ripped Toomes’ wings off, then the mask. Toomes raised a blaster, but Peter flipped and kicked it from his hand. 

“You creepy little bastard,” Toomes sneered. 

Peter steeled himself. “You belong in prison. Liz wouldn’t have wanted this.”

“I don’t  _ know _ what Liz would’ve wanted.” Toomes’ voice cracked, and for a moment, Peter pitied him—only for a moment. “Stark brought back half the universe, but my daughter stayed dead. Why should his kid get to live?”

“It was impossible to bring her back.”

“I could’ve. If I had his tech, I could.” 

_ No,  _ Peter thought. There was no bringing back the dead. He wouldn’t say it. Red shot across the sky. Morgan landed next to him.

“Sorry for the delay.” She activated a disk and tossed it forward. A golden portal opened. “Ten seconds, Peter.” 

“I’m sorry about Liz,” he said. Pity, again. Toomes would wake up in his own time without memory. All he’d know was that his daughter was dead. He knew how it felt to lose family. “I really am. I hope you can find peace, Toomes.”

“ _ Peter _ ,” Morgan said.

He shoved Toomes through the portal. As it closed, a black blur crossed above them. 

“Hammer,” he and Morgan said at the same time. 

“Go,” Harley said. “I’ll join Cassie.”

 

#

 

“Iron Woman and Spider-Man, huh?” Peter said. 

“Yeah.” Morgan’s heart galloped. God, taking down eight robots at once was a hell of a drug. No wonder this was a lifetime commitment. Maybe getting shot or stabbed or whatever would put a damper on the gig, but right now… right now was good. “We need to get rid of Hammer fast. Stane is the real threat.” 

“Have a suggestion?”

“Yeah. Can you, like, curve a kick?”

“Yup.” 

“I’ll get  _ above _ Hammer and open a portal to his left, then you swing from the side and kick him through. He’ll never see it coming. Yeah?”

“Let’s do it.” 

Morgan blasted toward the clouds, gaining altitude. She flew parallel with Hammer, higher than him, and signalled to Peter. She hurled a disc. A portal snapped open. Peter sailed through the sky and slammed his feet into Hammer’s chest. With a surprised shout, Hammer tumbled through the portal. Morgan caught Peter’s wrist and deposited him on a rooftop. They bumped fists.

“Atta girl,” Peter said. 

“Good plan, huh?” Morgan grinned. “I need a way to make the suit smile.”

“Creepy.” Peter touched his ear. “Everyone, it’s just Stane left.” 

Morgan exhaled. Just Stane. They could handle that. Shuri and Lila were making quick work of the bots, too. Easy win. 

“Hey, guys?” Cassie said. “Problemo.” 

A new legion of robots rose from the rooftop.

 

#

 

Peter swore violently. Tony was probably rolling over in his grave. Of  _ course  _ he should’ve anticipated more robots. Shitty planning on his part.

“Hey, stop beating yourself up,” Morgan said—not over the comms. “Act like a leader, because that’s what you are.”

Peter inhaled.  _ A leader.  _ He could do this. He had something to prove—they all did. 

“I got close to Stane,” Shuri said. “The device on his chest—it’s powering the robots. We need to shut it down before sending him back. That’ll take them all down.”

“He’s barricaded himself in with robots and cars and fucking civilians,” Lila said, voice rough. Was she hurt? He really,  _ really  _ didn’t want to lose anyone today. “I tried to get close and barely got out. Harley saved my ass.”

“Any time,” Harley said. 

“He likes to talk, though,” Lila said. “He was making an entire speech.” 

Peter’s mind raced. “We need an aerial approach then.”  _ Me, Harley, Cassie, Morgan.  _ “Someone who can get close.” Harley didn’t have the hand-to-hand range—he wanted to say Morgan didn’t, either, but she  _ did _ . He’d seen it in the 2012 battle and now.  _ Me, Cassie, Morgan.  _ “Someone he’ll talk to, who has a personal connection.”  _ Me, Morgan.  _

Shit. 

“Someone who he’ll underestimate.”

_ Morgan.  _

She curled her fists at her side. “Peter—”

“Let me think,” he snapped. He couldn’t send Morgan in. He couldn’t send his  _ little sister _ to face Obadiah Stane solo. Was this how Tony felt when Peter stowed away to Titan? He owed the man a thousand apologies.  _ Think of another solution.  _ He couldn’t. 

“Make the call, Peter,” Morgan murmured. 

“Peter?” Shuri asked. 

“Cassie, Harley, evacuate any civilians within a four-block range of Stane’s location,” he began. “Shuri and Lila, on me. We’re flanking Morgan.”

“What’s Morgan doing?” Cassie said. 

Peter exhaled.  _ I’m sorry, Mr. Stark.  _ “She’s facing Stane.” 

 

#

 

Even with his mask, Morgan sensed tears in Peter’s eyes. 

“I can do this,” she said. Who was she assuring? Herself or him?

He looked away. 

“Hey,” she said, more forcefully. He turned back to her. “I can do this.”

She lifted off. 

 

#

 

Peter watched as Morgan blasted toward the skyline, gaining higher ground. 

_ I can do this.  _

He made his choice—now he would have her back. 

 

#

 

Stane had formed a barrier of robots around him; he stood in the center, green energy pulsing in flashes. He was unmasked, still smirking. Morgan wanted to blast his face off. She would’ve, if it wasn’t for timelines and continuity and the universe’s fate. 

“That’s enough altitude,” Peter said over the comm. His voice shook. “Touch down.”

“Can I do it with some flare?” she asked.

“We’d be disappointed if you didn’t,” Cassie said. 

She rocketed down, then as the ground approached, twisted so her feet faced the ground. She landed with her left knee and fist against the ground, her right foot on the ground and blaster raised. Even with the gunfire and sirens, civilian shouts echoed in her ears. She stood, keeping her mask in place. 

“Look where this fight led you,” Stane said. “Back to me.”

She stepped closer. Two bots leapt toward her. One landed a solid hit to her side, but she wrenched her body around and dispatched them both. 

“I’m not surprised that you’re resilient,” he continued. “Tony’s like a fucking roach. Stomp your boot as many times as you want, and he lives on. Although I suppose the universe found a mighty big boot.”

Red flashed across her vision. She allowed herself to feel any emotion that crossed—anger, grief, disgust. Obadiah Stane had no right to her dad’s legacy. Tony Stark was dead. He was not gone. 

“Are you going to fight me alone?” he said. “I want that. Show me what you’ve got.”

Once, Carol Danvers, drunk on Asgardian mead during a party, pulled Morgan aside. “Dudes,” she’d slurred, “are  _ stupid _ during fights. They think that  _ you  _ care what  _ they  _ think of you. They want you to earn their approval. And you know what? That’s  _ stupid _ . If you can blast his ass, blast it. Don’t play his game.”

_ What do you want, Mo?  _

She didn’t need approval—she never had. 

Stane sneered. “Look at you. Tony Stark’s daughter—”

“My  _ name _ is Morgan Stark,” she said. “And I am not afraid of you.” 

Stane raised his arm, but she was faster. Gears whirred as a cannon formed around her left arm. She aimed. Exhaled. 

Fired.

The device on his chest shattered. Stane was blasted back, and in one fluid motion, Morgan threw the last disc. Before he could hit the ground, the portal snapped him up, closing as quickly as it opened. Morgan looked above her. All around the city, robots swooned, metal pieces clattering to the ground. Even the circle around her fell, appendages sprawled across cracked concrete. She knelt where Stane had stood, retrieving a green fragment of his chest piece. He would wake with a nasty bruise and no memory, and soon, he would die. Her dad would become Iron Man. 

The timeline would continue.

Morgan’s let her mask recede. She was breathing hard, and  _ fuck  _ her ribs hurt. Baby hairs clung to her sweaty face. Her once-neat ponytail hung in shambles. 

But Stane was gone. 

Slowly, the others appeared. Shuri, purple charges still coursing over her suit, illuminating her grin. Lila, uniform shredded and head bleeding, but bow and arrows slung victoriously over her shoulder. Harley, his suit battered but face alight with wonder. Cassie, nearly vibrating with energy, with her bruised face and clumped, sweaty hair. And Peter.  _ Peter.  _ He stood beside her, still masked, but his shoulders squared and head held high. This wasn’t superhero mode, no—this was Peter Parker, victorious. They stood in a circle, taking each other in, gazes loaded with disbelief. Morgan heard outside voices, civilians emerging from the woodwork, but she couldn’t look away from the others. The Avengers. Her  _ teammates.  _

“Holy shit,” Peter said. “We won.” 

 

#

 

_ We won.  _

Peter swallowed hard, tears brimming.

_ We won, Mr. Stark.  _

He glanced at the people surrounding him. These were  _ his  _ people. His team. He had a team, and he’d led them through this fight. He looked to the skyline, letting his tears fall. He realized, though, that they weren’t tears of sadness. 

Morgan touched his arm. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” he said. 

He took a moment to think of him. Tony, who brought him into this life. Tony, who took care of him. Tony, who died to save everyone he loved, who died to save the universe. Tony, who even in death, still protected him. Tony, who gave him a new family. He held those memories close to his heart, just for a moment, then released them. 

“Yeah,” Peter repeated. “I’m okay. I am.”

He embraced Morgan. 

 

#

 

Morgan kissed Peter’s cheek before pulling away. She wanted to cheer, to cry, to do a loop through the sky. Not every battle would be like this—she wasn’t that naive. Today, though, would be okay, and perhaps that was all that mattered. 

“Hey.” Lila nodded behind them. “Company.”

Morgan stepped in front of the others, chin raised. People. A lot of them. Regular civilians. Police officers. Firefighters. Reporters. Cameras flashed. As more people gathered, the whispers crescendoed. Morgan listened. 

“Is that…”

“That’s…”

“Iron  _ Woman _ .”

“That’s Tony Stark’s daughter!”

“Morgan Stark. That’s Morgan Stark!”

“She’s Iron Woman!” 

“That’s the first manned suit in twelve years!”

Wind lifted Morgan’s stray hair from her face as more cameras flashed. She glanced over her shoulder at Peter. He came to her side, lifting one hand to the reporters as he settled the other on her back. 

_ You need to be sure. If you choose this life, it’s forever.  _

She closed her eyes, remembering 2012 and her dad tumbling from the sky, but ultimately surviving. She remembered his joy in the workshop and by the lake. She remembered his love for Peter, his proud smile when she found him in the afterlife. She had a lot of her dad in her, yes, and a lot of her mom, too, but she was also entirely herself. Morgan Stark. Iron Woman. Her dad’s legacy and her own person. She could redefine what it meant to be an Avenger. She could begin a new age of superheroes. 

She raised her fist to the sky, grinning as the other Avengers came to her side. 

She knew her dad was proud. 

 

#

 

From the penthouse balcony, Pepper, with Rhodey standing next to her, watched Morgan and Peter interact with the crowd. After the old Avengers did their part, she’d come to the balcony to watch the fight. She’d been afraid for Morgan and the others, of course, but there was something else. Awe. Watching Morgan in the suit reminded her of Tony.  She fought like she had something to protect. A wound so old she hadn’t realized it still existed twinged, but not with pain. After all this time, healing. 

“This,” Rhodey said, “is a legacy. None of this would’ve happened without him.” 

Pepper brushed her fingers against the necklace Tony gave her old those years ago. Rhodey walked to the bar, then returned with two champagne flutes. He handed one to her. 

“To Tony Stark,” Rhodey said. 

Pepper watched Morgan and Peter pose with a group of young children, one dressed in Iron Man red and gold. She smiled and raised the glass. “To Tony.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you SO so much to everyone who has commented, given kudos, subscribed, bookmarked, and otherwise supported this fic. I wrote it largely to heal after Tony died, and seeing that it resonated with so many of you made me really happy :) I don't know what my future for writing Marvel fic looks like, but I hope one day to return to this universe.

**Author's Note:**

> I thrive off comments and kudos, so please drop in!! My tumblr is [here](https://such-geekiness.tumblr.com/) if you want to chat about anything Marvel related!!


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